The March of Time
by drwatsonn
Summary: "The March of Time goes on, as everyday begins with a dawn and ends with the moonlight; it is constant, and it is everlasting. However, the moonlight can be darkened by a single spark,which rages into a fire,and the dawn can be shattered by the boiling of a storm. You are the spark and the storm, Alison Ashburne, and I believe that you are the catalyst that will change everything."
1. 1: Of Books, Bus Stops, and Shortcuts

**Hey guys! So I've been playing around with this idea for a while, and I finally had time to just sit down and write it! This is my first Hobbit fanfic, so please read and review and give feedback! Thank you!**

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Prologue

Night had fallen upon the town of Bree as Thorin Oakenshield slopped his way through the mud and rain to reach the inn at the end of the street, The Prancing Pony. Despite his hood and cloak, the dwarf felt extremely exposed in this town of dirty men, and not just because he was a foot shorter than the rest of the inhabitants. It was the way the townsfolk moved; jerkily, cautiously, as if they feared something were lurking in the shadows, watching them, waiting to strike.

Thorin reached the inn without any trouble, though he too had begun to feel a chill on the back of his neck as he entered into the rowdy yet warm bar and parlor area. He ordered a pint of ale and a small meal of bread, meat and cheese from the smiling waitress at the bar, and took a seat at a table meant for a larger party in the center of the room since everywhere else was full.

The dwarf felt the prickle of many unwanted eyes on him, and he turned to his left, seeing a stocky, broad fellow with a bald head and one cloudy eye glaring at him as if he had personally caused him an offense. Thorin looked to his right and saw another man seated at a corner table by himself, this man being skinnier, dirtier, and more malicious than the other one.

The waitress arrived then, out of breath from twisting and dodging through the raucous crowd, carrying Thorin's pint of ale and a plate with his food. She set it down before him and whisked away with a small smile, seemingly not noticing the two threatening men staring down Thorin as he went about his business and began tearing into his bread, famished from his long journey through the countryside.

As he nonchalantly took a swig from his tankard, Thorin noticed the two men on either side of the room suddenly get up and wind their way towards him, their malice clearly outlined on their faces. Thorin gripped his sword hilt quickly, not afraid to cut down these two men in an innocent bar if they wanted a fight with him.

However, Thorin never got the chance to draw his sword, for suddenly a tall figure dressed all in grey swept up next to him and plopped himself down on the seat across from him. Thorin still gripped his hilt as he took in the man's grey traveling cloak and pointy grey hat atop a tangle of grey-white hair and a pair of sharp blue eyes, wondering who this new threat was.

Upon seeing this stranger sit across from Thorin, the two men immediately slunk back into the shadows of the inn, their lips curling in anger and disgust at the elderly man's presence.

"You draw quite a crowd, Thorin Oakenshield," the old man said, gazing at the dwarf king with serious eyes. Thorin started at hearing his name uttered from this strange man's mouth.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked, stealing a covert look around him to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

"I knew your grandfather, Thror," the man said "I used to visit your kingdom under the mountain and tell Thror of the happenings of the outside world."

Realization suddenly hit Thorin. "Gandalf the Grey, the wandering Wizard," he said, now recognizing why the man looked so familiar. "What business does a Wizard such as yourself have in the town of Bree?"

"I could ask you the same," Gandalf replied, and Thorin stiffened. "What are you doing so far from the Blue Mountains, Thorin?"

Thorin relaxed slightly as Gandalf stopped the waitress and ordered the same thing as the dwarf; when the waitress whisked away, Gandalf turned back and raised his bushy eyebrows questioningly. "Well?"

"There was a rumor," Thorin said reluctantly, dropping his voice even lower so the Wizard had to lean in to hear it. "A rumor that my father, Thrain, had been sighted in the countryside west of Bree. I came to investigate…"

"Only you didn't find him," Gandalf finished, and Thorin took a long drink from his tankard, not answering, though Gandalf was right. It was silent for a long moment as the waitress set down Gandalf's order and the Wizard began to nibble on a slice of cheese. After a while, Thorin spoke up again.

"You still did not tell me what you were doing in Bree, Gandalf," he said, and Gandalf set down his food, reaching into his cloak. The Wizard pulled out a worn, travel-stained piece of cloth from within and laid it flat on the table, unfolding it until a mess of harsh black lines and shapes met Thorin's eyes.

"What is this?" he asked, reaching for the cloth to get a better view.

"It is the Black Speech," Gandalf said, and Thorin snatched his hand back instantly, his eyes hard as he looked to Gandalf. "I found this on an Orc I ran into on my way here. It is an order…for your head."

Thorin stared into Gandalf's eyes, wondering if what the Wizard said was true. There was no hint of a lie in Gandalf's eyes, and deep down, Thorin felt as if he had somehow expected something like this.

"So what does this mean?" he demanded of the Wizard. He didn't see what was so important that kept Gandalf seated across from him, instead of just leaving after showing him the cloth.

"It means that the time has come," he said, and Thorin raised an eyebrow. "It is time to lead a quest to the Lonely Mountain to reclaim your homeland."

It was silent for several heartbeats, until Thorin realized that the Wizard was deathly serious and was not joking. "And you expect me to just get up and leave, to go to the Mountain?" Thorin said. "I have a people to look after, Gandalf. I cannot lead an army into the Mountain with no regard for my halls now."

"Which is why you will not lead an army, but a Company. A small one, no more than fifteen at the most. Destroy the dragon, take back Erebor." The Wizard said grimly.

Thorin thought for a moment, his mind mulling over the possibilities; he could reclaim Erebor, have his home back and restore the dwarves to their former glory they had had under Thror's rule. It was a tantalizing prospect, but there was one problem he saw. "If I were to take back the throne, there is only one way that I can rule without any opposition or faulty claims to the crown," he said to Gandalf, trying not to let his hope show too much. "The Arkenstone. But it will be impossible for me to obtain it, not as long as Smaug guards over it."

"That is true," Gandalf said. "But I might have an idea about that."

"And what would that be?" Thorin asked, eyeing the Wizard warily.

"I think we will need…a burglar."

* * *

It was sometime before dawn when Gandalf took his leave from Bree, after staying up all night discussing and arguing with Thorin Oakenshield. Gandalf thought that he had never met a dwarf so stubborn in his life until he spoke with the dwarf king, but after hours of eating, drinking, and talking, the Wizard finally convinced the dwarf that they must go on a quest to reclaim Erebor.

Gandalf knew he was right in choosing a burglar for the task of retrieving the Arkenstone, but it had taken a long time to sway Thorin into agreeing with his choice.

"A Hobbit?" Thorin had scoffed. "Hobbits are gentle folk, only knowing how to eat their weight in food and farm. They are not warriors, and especially not thieves. I am not bringing a Hobbit."

"The Hobbit I have in mind is not like most of his kind," Gandalf had argued, hoping that the young Hobbit he had known so many years ago was still as adventurous as he used to be. "And while Smaug is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the smell of a Hobbit would confuse him, and that would give us a distinct advantage."

Finally, Thorin had grudgingly agreed to let the Hobbit come, and after setting the date of their departure for the end of the month of April and coming to terms on other matters, Thorin had gone to bed in the inn and Gandalf had taken his horse and begun to ride east, towards Rivendell.

Gandalf knew that this quest to Erebor was just what Middle-earth needed. He sensed dark days ahead for them all, and uniting the free peoples of Middle-earth seemed like the only thing to do now if they were to prepare for the shadows lying ahead…

* * *

After a while, Gandalf came to a clear stream and stopped to let his horse drink, and collect some water himself. As he bent down to cup the water in his hands, his attention was suddenly captured by something before him. He stopped abruptly, his hands hovering a few inches above the slow-moving stream, as he saw a tree in front of him.

This tree was unusual and out of place amongst its neighbors; not only was it an ash tree surrounded by oaks and maples, but while the other trees were green and in full bloom from the good September weather, this tree was dead, black, and charred, as if it had been burned recently. Its branches twisted up into the sky, and against the golden-red of the sunrise behind it, Gandalf could truly imagine it being burned. An ash tree that had been burned…

It was as if a lightning strike had suddenly bolted through his body, making every nerve tingle and pulse as if they had come alive. Understanding and a sense of dread flooded his mind, and he breathed out one word that was lost in the breeze and rising sunlight: "Ashburne."

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Chapter One: Of Books, Bus Stops, and Shortcuts

Alison Ashburne wondered, not for the first time, why of all the days in the year, her mother had chosen that particular week to ground her from her car as she watched the rain pour down outside the classroom window.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and there was a flurry of movement as students stood up, collecting their things, and practically running out the door, ready to enjoy their weekend.

Alison packed away her notebooks and pens more slowly, already imagining how uncomfortable she'd be waiting for the bus in the downpour.

"So, Ali, you ready for Wild West this weekend?" Alison turned around, meeting the brown-eyed gaze of her best friend, Lexi.

"Lexi, you know better than anyone that I'm grounded for the next three weeks." Alison said, slinging her bag over her shoulder as they exited the classroom. After five minutes, the school was already deserted, and their footsteps echoed down the polished hallway as they walked slowly towards the front double doors of the high school.

"That's like, three _years," _she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I don't know, maybe go with your boyfriend?" Alison suggested sarcastically, shooting her friend a wicked grin.

Lexi shot her a look, half-smiling. "You know Jacob doesn't like dancing."

"I don't either, but somehow you always manage to get me to come," Alison pushed open the front doors, and the two girls stopped under the overhang of the school, listening to the rain patter on the roof for a few seconds. Alison sighed as she stared out at the soaked parking lot.

"Are you sure you don't need a ride?" Lexi asked in concern, noticing her friend's reluctance to walk out into the rain.

"My mom said I have to take the bus into town," Alison said, shaking her head. "It's part of my punishment."

"I feel so bad," Lexi said, chewing on her lower lip. "I shouldn't have convinced you to sneak out to go to that concert. I had no idea—"

"Lexi, it's fine," Alison said. "It was my fault I got caught."

"Yeah, but—"

"Stop," Alison said firmly. "Don't beat yourself up about it. I'll see you on Monday, all right?"

"Okay. Be safe." Lexi waved as she sprinted to her silver Ford Focus, her short blonde hair getting drenched within seconds. Alison watched her friend pull out of the parking lot, then pulled her jacket hood up over her head, cursing herself for not bringing an umbrella before storming out of her house that morning. After her mom had told her that she wasn't allowed to drive her car for the next three weeks and she would have to take the charter bus to get back into town, she had been so angry that she had left without even glancing at her weather app. _Oh well, _a resigned part of her thought as she made her way to the lonely bus stop two miles away. _It's my fault for sneaking out to that concert two nights ago. I guess I deserve it._

A part of Alison felt guilty for what she had done, lying to her mom and climbing out of her bedroom window to go to that stupid concert at the dance hall downtown, and then getting caught because she had forgotten to disable her alarm before leaving. But Alison was tired of being the perfect little goody two-shoes, living in the same boring, small Texas town, and doing the same boring things every night. She felt like her life was supposed to mean something more than this endless imprisonment of nothingness; she knew she was meant for greater things, for adventures or something of the sort. But she was stuck in the same repetitive life, like a broken record that kept playing the same part over and over again. But she also knew nothing was going to happen to an insignificant girl like her, but that didn't stop her from hoping.

And how wrong she was.

Alison approached the deserted bus stop, her teeth chattering from the uncomfortable chill of the October rainfall. Even in Texas, rain could be cold sometimes, especially when all she was wearing was a light jacket and jeans.

She sat down on the bus stop bench, the awning over her head offering some shelter from the downpour. She checked her phone, seeing that the time only read 4:15. She groaned, yanking her headphones from her bag. The bus wasn't going to be there for another ten or fifteen minutes at least, and she began to form a passionate argument against her mother in her head as she jammed the ear buds in her ears and began blasting her music.

Alison gazed out across the desolate road, where the farm land looked gray and bleak in the dim light, and the sky was obscured by heavy rain clouds. Not knowing what else to do, she just stared across the road and sang out loud, not having anyone around to hear her. "Now I see fire, inside the mountains, I see fire…"

When the song was coming to a close, Alison suddenly felt a pickle on the back of her neck, and she turned to see an old man seated on the bench beside her. She started, ripping her headphones out of her ears and closing her mouth immediately, beyond embarrassed that this man had to experience her horrific singing.

"Oh my gosh," she said, shutting off her music and stowing away her phone in her pocket. "I am so sorry, sir—I didn't know you were there, I'm sorry."

The old man smiled kindly at her, his eyes a piercing blue that contained wisdom beyond her own years. "Don't be sorry, my dear. I apologize for sneaking up on you; but you seemed so wrapped up in your music I didn't want to disturb you." The man's eyes twinkled good-naturedly, but Alison felt herself blushing.

"Again, I'm sorry for that," she said, trying for a somewhat awkward smile.

"Don't be," the old man suddenly held out his hand. "I am Ian McKellen."

Alison shook his hand, feeling his calluses and wrinkles under her own slim fingers as she said, "Alison Ashburne."

"What a lovely name," Mr. McKellen remarked, adjusting comfortably on the bench. "Thank you." Alison replied, getting over her initial shock and embarrassment. Mr. McKellen was dressed in a light gray suit with a matching hat, which covered his close-cropped gray hair and cast his benign, lined face into shadow. He carried a brown leather briefcase, and Alison wondered what a sophisticated-looking man like himself was doing at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere.

"So…" she said awkwardly, and Mr. McKellen looked at her again with those piercing eyes. "Do you, um, live around town or anything?"

"No," he replied cheerily. "I'm merely visiting."

"Family, friends?" Alison prayed the bus would come soon, because she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and pressured under the scrutiny of his gaze.

"You could say a friend." Mr. McKellen smiled merrily, looking back out to the rain, and Alison sat there, still wary and awkward.

After a few moments of silence, the old man opened his briefcase, and Alison caught a glimpse of a strange piece of paper, almost like a weird map, before the case snapped closed again. Mr. McKellen had taken out a small paperback book, worn and slightly beat up, and Alison felt a twinge of annoyance. She was an extreme book-lover, and it pained her to see books that had gone through wear and tear.

She looked closer at the faded green cover, and uttered a small gasp of pleasure as she recognized the novel. "The Hobbit!"

Mr. McKellen looked at her with a sparkle of amusement. "You've read it?"

"Well, yes. But it was a long time ago. I don't really remember it that much."

"Really? Excellent, excellent…" he trailed off, fingering the book cover thoughtfully. "Perhaps…" Alison had no idea what he was talking about, but at that moment she saw the charter bus trundling into view down the road, and she felt relief as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

She was standing up to leave when Mr. McKellen's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Have you ever been on an adventure, Miss Ashburne?"

Alison turned around, startled at the question. "Excuse me?"

"An adventure," Mr. McKellen repeated. "You know, of the sort where you hike across mountains and discover things you never knew about your world before?"

Alison figured the man must be yanking her chain, since she had no idea what he was talking about. "Um…no." she replied slowly, as the bus pulled to a screeching stop in front of her. "I've never been out of this town in my life, as lame as that sounds."

"Well, that's good!" Mr. McKellen exclaimed, making no move to get up and join her. "There's always a first time for everything."

"That's true," Alison said, stepping closer to the bus as the doors swung open. She was about to climb into the bus when his voice stopped her again.

"Oh, and Miss Ashburne?" Alison glanced over her shoulder, where Mr. McKellen was still seated leisurely on the bench. "Read 'The Hobbit' again. I'm sure you will find it useful."

Alison only nodded in reply, punching in her bus card and taking a seat near the middle of the bus. There was only one other person on board, seated in the back, snoring with a pair of headphones on.

The bus doors swung closed, and the vehicle began to move, when Alison noticed that Mr. McKellen had not gotten on the bus.

"Um, sir?" she called to the bus driver. "There's another person at this stop we need to wait for."

Though Mr. McKellen had been slightly uncomfortable and annoying, he was polite and elderly, and Alison didn't want to leave him in the rain. However, the bus driver just gave her a strange look through his rearview mirror and said, "There's no other person at that stop, ma'am. Sorry."

"What?" Alison said to herself, and swung around in her seat, craning her head to get a good look at the bus stop, about to point out the old man—except he wasn't there. The bench was empty of any gray-suited, briefcase-carrying old man, as was the surrounding area around the stop. It was as if Mr. McKellen had simply vanished.

The bus started forward again, heading towards town, and Alison watched the stop fade away into the rain in disbelief, refusing to accept that Mr. McKellen was gone. He was _there. _She had seen him with her own eyes, spoken to him, shook his hand. He couldn't be _gone. _

But he was, and Alison didn't know what else to think except that he had left when she had gotten on the bus. Shaking her damp hair out of her eyes, she settled back into her seat and tried not to think of Mr. McKellen again. She managed to succeed for quite a few months, but of course, fate always had other plans. And Alison Ashburne was about to discover just what exactly her fate was.

* * *

*Six Months Later*

"I can't do this anymore," Alison moaned, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "I feel like my brain is fried."

"I feel you," Lexi replied through a yawn, dropping her pencil on her paper and stretching out her fingers.

"How about we stop here and regroup tomorrow?" Kyle suggested, his eyes bloodshot behind his glasses as he took a last sip out of his coffee cup.

"Agreed," Victoria said, stacking up her papers and putting them into her backpack. "Same time, same place?"

The study group all mumbled in agreement, packing up their various belongings sluggishly, slow and stupid from their hard afternoon of studying for finals.

Alison was the first one to get up, and she was about to leave when Lexi stopped her."Oh, Ali, here." She pulled out a pair of dark skinny jeans from her bag and tossed them to Alison. "Thanks for letting me borrow them."

"No prob," Alison said. She was too lazy to put them in her backpack, so she just slung them over her arm as she headed out the door, waving over her shoulder to her friends.

The late April humidity clung to her skin as she crossed the empty street, leaving the coffee shop where they studied for tests behind as she hopped onto the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Night had just fallen, and the streetlamps flickered on, providing soft pools of orange light for her to walk through as she made her way home.

To her right was the small town square of her hometown, West, Texas, everything already closed for the night and locked up except for a few restaurants and the dance hall, where she could hear the whoops and laughter of people as they danced and the rhythmic, twangy pounding of country music. To her left was the tiny park, thick with pecan trees and dark from the absence of artificial lights.

Alison ducked into the trees, for she knew a path through the park that would lead her practically to her front door step. She breathed in the fresh, clean scent of dirt and trees as she wound her way through the shortcut. After a couple minutes, she began to see the glow of house lights in the distance, and she made her way towards them until she was suddenly stopped.

It was as if she had run face-first into a glass door; Alison smashed her head into it, hurting her nose, and she fell back into the grass, her bag being knocked loose from her shoulder. "Ow," she said in surprise, rubbing her nose. "What the hell?"

She felt in front of her, not seeing the thing she had run into, but after a few seconds of groping her fingers pushed up against something solid. She sat up on her knees, pushing forward still, but it was as if there was an invisible barricade in front of her, refusing to budge.

"What the hell?" she repeated. She felt to her sides, and encountered the same thing; pressing back, her shoulder blades connected with the same solid invisible wall.

Seized by a feeling of sudden terror and panic, Alison scrambled to her feet, banging on the invisible walls, trying to find a way out. "Hello? Hello!" she yelled frantically, but she knew it was hopeless. She was still in the middle of the dark and deserted park, and she doubted that anyone would be able to hear her. "Somebody please help!"

Alison suddenly felt a blow to her stomach, as if someone had grabbed her by her navel and was pulling on her. She collapsed to the ground, still trying to scream and push as her stomach heaved. It felt as if she were being sucked into a black hole or something, and she clawed maniacally at the invisible walls as bright light began to flood her vision.

"Help! Help!" she screamed, and then she felt the ground split open beneath her. As Alison began to fall, she grabbed on to the first thing her hand found, which was—_wow, thank God—_her pants that Lexi had given back to her.

Screaming and grappling at empty air, Alison and her pants fell and fell, until she crashed into something hard and solid and blacked out. When she awoke, a pair of familiar, piercing blue eyes greeted her, and an eerily familiar voice said, "So. You have finally arrived."

Alison looked up groggily and saw Ian McKellen standing over her, looking very strange and different from how Alison remembered him. "Welcome to Middle-earth." He said.

Blackness swirled in Alison's vision, and before she passed out again, she managed to croak out one word: "Shit", before unconsciousness swallowed her once more.

* * *

**Ha. Ha ha. Get it? Ian McKellen? ...okay sorry. This was a longer chapter for me to write, and I haven't decided yet if I'm going to keep this length or go shorter...hmm. Anyway, so I saw The Desolation of Smaug last night, and it was AMAZINGGGG! No spoilers, though, in case you haven't seen it, but it was soooo good! So that's this week's question: Have you seen DoS yet, and if you have, what did you think of it? **

**Also, please don't forget to read and review, I love hearing feedback! And depending on how well this story goes I'll try to upload every weekend! Thank you, lovelies!**


	2. 2: Ashburne and Company

**Hey guys! So I know I said last chapter that I would be posting once every weekend, but I finished this chapter more quickly than I expected, so instead of having it sit on my computer for another week I just decided to upload it today. This chapter's actually pretty long because there was just a whole lot of stuff to put in, but I hope y'all like it! Please read, review and give feedback! Thanks!**

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Chapter Two: Ashburne and Company

When Alison finally came to, she had to squint her eyes shut against the white sunlight boring down on her and lay her head back down, groaning in pain. Every part of her body ached, and it felt like she'd been hit head-on by a truck, then backed over again.

She smelled sweet earth and wheat around her, and a gust of wind tickled across her face as she cracked her eyes open again, seeing a line of clear blue sky above her. She opened her eyes further, realizing that this wasn't her bedroom or anywhere in her town, and she sat up quickly, earning an outstanding throb emanating from the back of her head. She clutched her skull in her hands, trying to breathe through the pounding, when she heard a rustle and a deep voice mutter a strange sentence in a language she didn't know. Instantly, a warm glow flowed through her, alleviating her pains and aches and filling her with a sense of peace. She felt calm and much better physically, but that serenity vanished when she became aware that she wasn't alone.

She jackknifed to her feet, her sandals slipping in the soft dirt as she stumbled away from Ian McKellen, who had been sitting a small distance away and had obviously been waiting for her to come to. He was dressed in a long gray cloak, a thin brown belt tied around his waist and a gray scarf of sorts wrapped around his shoulder and torso. A tall, pointy gray hat adorned his head, and his wild gray hair hung down a little past his shoulders, framing his lined face and bushy eyebrows, completed with a long gray beard. Alison would never have guessed it was the same man from the bus stop all those months ago if it weren't for the eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded shakily, trying not to let her fear show. "Where have you taken me? What do you want?"

"Eager now, are we?" The man said, grunting a little bit as he clambered to his feet. Alison noticed that he leaned on a staff as he got up, a strange staff like the branch of a tree crowned with a clear white crystal on top. In any other situation, she would've laughed at the man's ridiculous "wizard" get-up, but being lost and alone with no bearing of her current predicament made Alison too frightened to see any humor.

"No, I'm not eager!" She exclaimed, as the costumed man loomed over her, easily a foot and a half taller than her measly five foot one height. She stepped back further as he took a step forward. "I want to know what the hell is going on!"

"Well, to begin with your first question, my name is Gandalf the Grey," he said, with a little bow in her direction. He seemed to get that she wanted her space, so he stayed where he was, propping up his staff and leaning on it.

Alison felt her stomach contract. "Gandalf the Grey? Is this some sort of sick joke? He's a fictional character, not a real person." She said, shaking her head quickly.

"But he is a real person, and he is me," the man said. "In your world, I am a fictional character, but that is only to keep you from the truth of what you do not see."

"What—what do you mean, 'your world?'" Alison spluttered, certain that she had been kidnapped by a crazy old man who had a thing for role-playing and was about to murder her.

"Your world, the mortal world," he said. "There is a veil that separates us from them, and it takes a certain kind of person to see beyond to the other side of the veil."

"You're mad," she said. She thought about making a run for it, but botched that idea: she had no clue where she would run to in this strange place, and her feet were unwilling to move at that moment.

"You'd be surprised how many times I have been told that over my lifetime," he said amusedly, not fazed by her hostility and disbelief. "I believe your second question has already been answered, but considering you were close to unconsciousness I feel like I must repeat it: You are in Middle-earth. And if you wish me to be precise, then we are in the Shire, a few miles away from the village of Hobbiton. And to be clear, it was not I that brought you here. That was purely the doing of the Valar."

Alison's blood boiled at the words 'Shire' and 'Hobbiton', and she was close to mentally snapping as she ground out, "We are not in the Shire, or Middle-earth. We are on _Earth_-earth, and you are going to stop messing around and tell me where I am and what I'm doing here."

"And I have already answered you," the man said, his voice becoming more serious, all smile lines from his face vanishing as he frowned down at her. "You are in Middle-earth, and you have been summoned here by the Valar. Your arrival has long been anticipated among the peoples of Middle-earth, though they do not understand the full implications of your being here."

Alison was on the verge of a mental breakdown as she listened to Gandalf's words. This old man was psychotic, and if he was going to kill her, she was not going to go down without making at least an effort to get away.

"You're insane," she spat, and turned on her heel and ran.

She sprinted through a soft golden field that she couldn't see the end to, where rolling green hills rose up beyond it and melded with the impossibly blue sky. Alison had no idea where she was going, but she was fine as long as she was away from that nut-head old man claiming to be a wizard from a fictional story.

After several minutes of running, Alison's legs began to burn, partly from the strain of running uphill and partly from the difficult task of running in sandals. Within another few minutes of pushing herself up the first hill, she was drenched in sweat and her breath came in short, gasping puffs of air.

Alison reached the top of the hill and slowed down, not hearing any sounds of pursuit behind her and assuming she was safe. She bent over double, her hands on her knees, fighting for breath, when she noticed a shadow form in front of her.

Alison staggered back, thinking it was Ian McKellen, when she noticed that the shadow was far too short to be the tall man.

Looking up, she met the round-eyed stare of a squat, plump little man wearing bright cotton clothes and a straw hat capped over his curly brown hair. He was very short, maybe five or six inches shorter than her, and he ogled at her in bewilderment, disregarding the goat he was pulling by a rope leash completely.

But Alison was not bothered by the fact that she had probably stumbled into this little man's yard uninvited and looking like she had been running for her life. What bothered her were the little man's feet.

They were very large, larger than her own, and bare; he wasn't wearing shoes of any kind, and his feet were covered only by thick, curly hairs that matched the locks on his head. Alison felt her heart sink to her toes as she registered this fact and recalled the main character of 'The Hobbit.'

"Are you…you're not a Hobbit, are you?" she asked, already fearing the answer.

The little man said nothing, just nodded.

"Oh my God," Alison gasped. "_Oh my God. _This…this is real. You're real. I'm in Middle-earth. _This is real._"

"Ah, Miss Ashburne, there you are," Gandalf said, coming up behind her on the hill. If it was possible, the Hobbit's eyes got even wider as he took in Gandalf's wild and tall demeanor. "I see you have already met an inhabitant of the lovely village. Excellent. Good day to you, sir." Gandalf tipped his hat to the Hobbit, and without a word, the squat little man took his goat and walked back down the hill. A few seconds later there was the sound of a door being closed, and Alison and Gandalf were alone in the Hobbit's yard.

Alison met the calm blue gaze of the Wizard, and immediately she started yammering. "Mr. Mc—Gandalf, I am so sorry. I didn't know…how…why…" she trailed off, at a complete loss for words.

"It is understandable," he said kindly. "It is a lot to take in."

"But I don't understand," she said, feeling a prick of hot tears rushing to her eyes. "How am I here? _Why _am I here?"

"Come," the Wizard said, leading her carefully by the arm down the hill. "I think we have intruded on our host's land for a tad too long. I will explain everything to the best of my ability on the road."

The two slid and slipped down the hill until they came to a nice cobblestone road, and Gandalf led the way as they passed more Hobbits and their homes. The inhabitants openly stared at the two as they passed, and Alison found herself staring right back, drinking in the reality before her. She was in Middle-earth; she truly was.

"I was the one who brought you here," Gandalf said, his voice breaking through her sightseeing.

Alison tore her eyes away from the landscape and looked at him in confusion. "I thought you said the Valar or whatever brought me here?"

"I said the Valar had summoned you here, but it was I who actually cast the spell that brought you here."

Alison remembered the pain she had felt before she had fallen through the ground back home with a slight wince. "Yeah, thanks for that."

"I apologize for any discomfort I brought you, Miss Ashburne," Gandalf said sincerely. "But it was the fastest way to get you here. Any other way would have taken years to complete the spell."

"But what do the Valar want with me, and who even are they?" she asked.

"The Valar are…very powerful emissaries of the world's Creator, Eru," Gandalf explained. "They are not gods, though they are worshipped as such. They watch over Middle-earth, and though they do not directly interfere with us, they do send help occasionally." Gandalf looked over at her meaningfully. "Like you, for example."

"_What?" _Alison whipped around, looking at Gandalf incredulously. "The Valar sent for me because they needed _help? _What can I possibly do? And why me?"

"Part of that question can be told here, but I'm afraid the other part will have to wait until later," the Wizard said. "You have been chosen because you are descended from a great line of warriors that have assisted Middle-earth for thousands of years. Oh, yes, the Ashburnes have been around for centuries," Gandalf said before Alison could butt in. "You are descended from the greatest warrior of all, a Hero from this world that had accidentally crossed the veil into your own world. His name was—"

"Eleon Ashburne." She interrupted. It was as if someone had lit a flame in the back of her mind, illuminating memories that she had long since forgotten.

"You know of him?" Gandalf asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"I remember my dad telling me about him a long time ago, when I was a kid," she said. She had an image of herself, a seven year old wearing flannel pajamas lying next to a cozy fire in her living room, listening to her father as he read her stories about their "family history" from a large, dusty leather book. Alison had never thought the stories were real, for they always involved the word 'warrior' and told of her ancestors crossing into another world… "You mean…my dad's stories…they're true?"

"They are," Gandalf confirmed. "Your bloodline has been an ally to Middle-earth for generations, and it seems they have chosen you this time."

"But why me?" she asked, suddenly feeling very small and weak. "I'm not a warrior, or a Hero."

"The Valar choose the most eligible Ashburne available to them," Gandalf said. "You are young, healthy and strong, and you possess a keen mind and courage, something the Valar value very highly."

"But I'm still just…me," Alison said. "I don't have any magic powers or wicked sword-fighting skills or anything. And, wait a minute," she said, stopping in her tracks. "I never said anything about staying and helping the Valar. I need to go home; I have a family, friends, a whole life back in…the mortal world. I can't just go flouncing around Middle-earth, pretending I'm a warrior. I need to go back."

"But you have to stay," Gandalf said, facing her from a few feet away. "You have been chosen to help Middle-earth."

"Yeah, but I was chosen against my will," Alison said, suddenly feeling very nauseous. "I can't do…whatever it is they want me to do, Gandalf. And you haven't even told me what I'm supposed to be helping you _with."_

"But I did say that that part of the question would be answered later," Gandalf countered. "And you've been here for half a day, how could you possibly know if you can or cannot help based on your feelings at this time?"

"I just know that I can't," she argued. "I'm nothing special; even if I did have otherworldly warrior blood or whatever, I still don't know how to handle weapons or anything. I would be a hindrance to whatever task they appointed me with."

"Again, your mundane world clouds your mind," the Wizard said. "You do not know your full potential; give it time, and you will see."

Alison knew the Wizard was slowly winning the argument, but she grasped for her last lifeline. "But everyone back home will know that I'm gone. They could think I was missing, or dead…" she stopped, swallowing hard as panic threatened to rise up again.

Gandalf just shook his head. "Time passes here differently than in the mortal world," he said. "You could be here for a hundred years and no time will have passed in the other world."

"So…it's like Narnia?"

Gandalf looked at her in confusion. "Like what?"

"Never mind," she sighed. "But I'm still going home, Gandalf. I can't stay here. I can't. You need to send me home."

"Even if I would let you go, you couldn't," the Wizard said. "The spell I used to bring you here took me weeks to work, and the spell to send you back would be ten times as hard. Even if I had the time to spare, it would be months before the spell was ready. And since I do not have the time to spare, I am afraid that you have no choice but to stay for now." And with that, he turned and whisked away down the road.

Alison hurried after him, indignation swelling in her chest. "There must be another way," she said to his back. "Another spell, another…" A memory floated to the surface, and she said, "A Wizard! There's another Wizard who can send me back. There are five of you, right? You, Gandalf the Grey, Saruman the White, Radagast the Brown, and like, two Blue Wizards, right? One of them can send me home!"

"Possibly," Gandalf grunted. "However, Radagast—and I mean no offense to him, for he is a very good Wizard—does not have that kind of power, and the two Blue Wizards I have not seen nor heard from for many years now, so who knows where they are? And as for Saruman, he may be willing to help, but that is only a slight chance, for he is the greatest of our Order and has many other important things to do than send a human girl back to the mortal world, Ashburne or not."

"I don't care," she said, trying not to get too disheartened over his unhelpful advice. "Even if there's a chance, I'll take it. Where does Saruman live again, Isengard?"

"Correct," Gandalf said. "But if you expect me to guide you there I am afraid I cannot help you with that, either, for I have many important things to do, as well."

"Could you give me a map?" she asked. "I could make my way there myself." Even as she said it, Alison knew she was being stupid. Isengard was hundreds of miles away from the Shire; even if Gandalf did let her go by herself, she had no supplies, no money, and no experience of any kind to venture alone. She would be dead within the night.

"That could be an option," Gandalf said, surprising her. "But we will have to wait until tomorrow, for today I must focus on preparations."

"Preparations for what?" Alison said, finally managing to fall in step with the Wizard again.

"Firstly, we must do something about you, my dear," he said, scrutinizing her head to foot. "You draw far too much attention in those clothes, and we have to make you look as inconspicuous as possible."

Alison agreed wholeheartedly; she had never felt more disgusting in her life. Sweat dripped down her neck and in between her shoulder blades, making her blue tank top and hair stick to her skin uncomfortably as the hot sun beat down on her, probably making her smell, as well. And she understood Gandalf's intentions about her clothes. A tank top, sandals, and tight denim shorts would definitely make her stand out. Speaking of denim…

"My pants," she said out loud, and Gandalf gave her a weird look over her random outburst. "I came here with a pair of pants," she explained. "Have you seen them?"

"Do you mean these?" The Wizard pulled out her jeans from beneath his cloak, and Alison snatched them up, the familiar texture comforting to her hands.

The Wizard and the girl rounded a corner in the road, and before Alison lay the quaint village of Hobbiton, every bit bright and beautiful to her eyes. Hobbits and various farm animals milled about, and they all stopped and stared at the companions like everyone else on the road had.

Gandalf nodded and waved to a lot of them, but Alison hung back behind the Wizard, suddenly very shy as they all pointed and whispered at her. Gandalf came to a stop outside a small shop Alison recognized as a clothing outfitter, and Gandalf gestured to the door, letting her inside.

* * *

Half an hour later, Alison emerged from the shop, her hair freshly combed and her face scrubbed almost raw. The Hobbit woman working the store had made a fuss over the state of Alison's hair and face, taking care of her before even letting her look at the clothes. Not that Alison didn't mind. She had caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, at her dirty and sweat-streaked face, making her look a lot tanner than she really was, and her tangled brown hair hanging limply down her back, almost to her waist. Her eyes, usually a much tamer green, seemed to burn like pale green ice in her face, and she had backed away from the mirror then, not knowing how she could look the same when everything in her life had just been uprooted and thrown off a cliff.

Much to the Hobbit woman's confusion and annoyance, Alison had stubbornly insisted on wearing her jeans, enjoying the feel of the denim against her legs and the flexible conformity of the pants. Besides that, Alison had let the woman go to town on her, allowing her to pick out a long-sleeved thermal-sort of black shirt, a forest-green hunting jacket, and sturdy yet comfortable black leather riding boots. Thanking her and paying for the clothes, Gandalf and Alison continued through the streets of Hobbiton, occasionally pausing every once in a while to check out a new stall or shop.

The sun was climbing higher into the sky as Gandalf and Alison made their way up the largest hill in the village, and Alison was suddenly hit with a realization that made her stomach churn and her world flip upside down as she recognized the round green door at the top of the hill.

"Gandalf," she gasped. "I—I think I know why the Valar need my help. Oh, my God, I think I know now."

"Oh?" The Wizard said, eyeing her interestedly.

"This—this is 'The Hobbit,' isn't it? Oh, God, oh, God, they want me to go on the quest to Erebor. This is why I'm here, why I was summoned. Isn't it, Gandalf, isn't it?" Her voice had risen to a panicked wail at the end, and Gandalf placed his hands on her shoulders gently.

"Alison," he said sternly, until she fought down the panic inside of her just a little bit to where she could process his words. "Did you reread 'The Hobbit' as I instructed you to at the bus stop last fall?"

Alison shook her head slowly, not even remembering that part of the conversation until now. Gandalf looked vaguely disappointed in her, but he continued. "Do you remember how the story ends?"

She thought hard, trying to recall, but it had been so long ago: the dragon was defeated, Bilbo Baggins the Hobbit survived, the Battle of the Five Armies…that was it. Something involving the battle that had made her cry after she had finished reading it… She suddenly felt sick.

"The line of Durin," she whispered. It was all coming back to her now; Thorin Oakenshield's madness caused by the gold-sickness that led to his death, and the younger two, Fili and Kili, the princes, dying sometime during the battle that was never specified. "No, no, no, Gandalf, you cannot expect me to do this."

"You know the fate that awaits Thorin Oakenshield and the two princes at the end of this journey," he said, staring intently into her eyes. "That book is but one ending out of a thousand possibilities; it seems you are meant to help find one of those possibilities."

"I can't do this," she gasped, her eyes blurry with tears. "It's crazy, it's insane, you can't ask me to help save three lives when I can barely control my own. I can't, I can't."

"But you must," he said, shaking her shoulders slightly. "You must, for all our sakes. Failure means the unraveling of everything we know, in this world and yours. It is daunting and terrifying, but fate has chosen you, Alison Ashburne, and if you wish to see your family and home again, then you must learn to be strong."

Alison was petrified, but she nodded and brushed the tears from her eyes, anyway. She couldn't afford to lose it. She still needed to find a way to get back home. "Now come along," Gandalf said, sweeping away up the hill towards the green door of Bilbo Baggins' Hobbit-hole. "We still need a burglar for this quest."

Taking a few deep breaths to regain her composure, Alison jogged after the Wizard until they came to the front gate of the Hobbit-hole. And there, sitting on a cushioned bench by the gate, smoking from a pipe, was Bilbo Baggins in the flesh.

Like all the other Hobbits Alison had seen, Bilbo was dressed in a waistcoat of bright yellow over a plain white shirt and green trousers, with curly brown hair and large, hairy Hobbit feet. However, he was thinner than most Hobbits, and his brown eyes were keen as he looked up at the two people stopped outside his gate.

"Um, good morning," Bilbo said politely, nodding to the two. He took another drag on his pipe, obviously waiting for the Wizard and the girl to move on.

Gandalf planted his staff meaningfully into the pathway and gazed at Bilbo for a long moment before speaking. "What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it to or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning, or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"

Bilbo stared at Gandalf, his mouth slightly agape, and Alison didn't blame him; she had no idea what just went on, either.

"A—all of them at once, I suppose," Bilbo stammered, looking back and forth between Gandalf and Alison with a crease between his brows. "Can I help you?"

Gandalf made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat as he regarded the Hobbit, his eyes calculating. "That remains to be seen." The Wizard said. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."

Bilbo took his pipe out of his mouth, as if he were shocked that someone would suggest such a thing. "An adventure? Now, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures." He stood up from his bench awkwardly, attempting to nonchalantly put out his pipe as he opened his mailbox and took out his letters. "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner." He chuckled once, sifting through his mail, clearly hoping that they would leave. Alison smirked as the Hobbit succeeded in putting out his pipe and fled to his front door after another hasty "Good morning", but Gandalf's booming voice stopped him cold.

"To think that I should live to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son as if I was selling buttons at the door."

Bilbo looked back, slightly affronted. "Beg your pardon?"

"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

"I'm sorry; do I know you?"

"Well, you know my name, although you do not remember I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means…me."

Comprehension dawned on Bilbo's face as he smiled at Gandalf. "Not Gandalf, the wandering Wizard who made such _excellent _fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve!" Gandalf shrugged, looking quite modest, but his smile disappeared as Bilbo said, "No idea you were still in business."

Alison stifled a snort as Gandalf looked up at the Hobbit from under his hat. "And where else should I be? Well, I'm glad you at least remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks." Gandalf suddenly grinned. "Well, that's decided. It'll be very good for you, and most amusing for my companion and I. I shall inform the others."

"What?" Bilbo said in alarm. "No, no, no, wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today, no. I suggest you try Over the Hill or across The Water." He pointed in some vague, far-off direction, teetering for a moment on his doorstep. Then, with a last squeak of "Good morning!", Bilbo fled into his house, slamming his circular front door behind him. Alison heard the distinct click of a lock as her and Gandalf stood there.

"Well, that went nicely," she said. She wasn't at all bothered by Bilbo's reaction; she knew that the Hobbit would come around. Gandalf didn't answer, swinging himself over the front gate and up Bilbo's front path. Using the end of his staff, Gandalf began to carve a glowing blue thieves' mark on the green front door, and Alison saw Bilbo's small brown eyes appear in the circular window by the front door, trying to see what was going on. Gandalf gazed back into the window, and when he pulled away, Bilbo was nowhere to be seen.

"Isn't that vandalizing?" Alison asked as Gandalf clambered back over the gate, twitching his hat back into place.

"Of course not," the Wizard said. "It is simply there for guidance."

Alison shot him a wide-eyed look. "You mean the dwarves are coming here _today?" _

"Tonight," Gandalf clarified, and Alison felt a rush of excitement and anxiety run through her; she was going to meet the dwarves that night!

"So what are we supposed to do until tonight?" she asked, following Gandalf back down to the village below the hill.

"We collect supplies," Gandalf replied, and Alison soon learned that the Wizard's definition of supplies and hers were completely different. By "supplies" he meant eighteen ponies, at least two dozen water skins, a supply of food equal to that seen in a grocery store, and many other assorted miscellaneous items that Alison was forced to carry.

"What are we going to do with all of this?" She panted, setting down her last armful of supplies near a shaggy brown pony. Her arms were sore from the heavy loads she had carried, and a bead of sweat dripped down her face.

"We load it on the ponies," the Wizard said, so they spent the next two hours distributing supplies among the ponies and loading them up. By the time they were finished, the sun was beginning to set, and Gandalf and Alison entered the tiny pub of the village, the Green Dragon.

Gandalf ordered a mead and Alison a water; even though she was in another world accompanied by a fully responsible adult Wizard, she still felt strange about ordering alcohol when she was underage.

"So what do we do now?" She asked after the bartender slid them their drinks.

"Now," Gandalf said, taking a deep drag from his tankard. "We wait."

* * *

Alison knew immediately when the dwarves arrived.

Though not as tall as human men, they were a good head taller than Hobbits, so when they walked into the pub Alison tapped Gandalf on the shoulder and pointed them out. The Wizard smiled and got up from his seat, leading the dwarves over to the secluded area of the bar Alison was currently seated in.

All Alison remembered from the book was that the dwarves all wore different colored hoods and had beards, but she was definitely taken aback as the dwarves approached her table. They were all clad in leather and metal and furs, strong and stocky with torsos that were round and wide and barrel-like, with broad shoulders and short legs, though they were still well-muscled. Well, some of them, she amended, as an immense ginger dwarf with a round braided beard came waddling into view.

Alison only counted eight dwarves, and she was confused as she knew there were supposed to be thirteen, when Gandalf sat back down next to her and said "Others are arriving separately." She nodded, taking a tiny sip from her water cup as the dwarves all pressed together around their table, eyeing her warily.

"Who's she?" One with a short, braided gray beard asked, gesturing to Alison.

"This, my dear Dori, is Alison Ashburne," Gandalf said. "She is here as my companion, and she is also another member of our Company."

Dori nodded thoughtfully while the other dwarves bent their heads together and whispered, occasionally glancing at her every few seconds as they talked.

Alison shifted uncomfortably, not from the dwarves' mutterings, but the way Gandalf had introduced her. "She is also another member of our Company." It had sounded so final, like there was no room to argue and she had already been roped into the quest without even getting a proper choice.

"Well," one of the dwarves, this one with brown braids and an eared hat announced, when they all broke apart after several minutes of intense discussion. "Welcome to the Company, Miss Ashburne."

They all smiled at her and began to introduce themselves to her as the bartender brought over their drinks, shaking her hand, or, in the case of the one with the hat, kissing it. She knew she was going to have trouble keeping all of their faces lined up with their names, and sure enough, she had already called the one with the crazy starfish-type hair, whose name was Nori, Bombur twice. She remembered Bofur, because he was the one who had kissed her hand, and Dori because he was the first one Alison had seen, but she knew it was going to be a while before she got all of it together.

After an hour or so of drinking and chatting, and Alison trying to answer all the dwarves' questions about herself and her world, and successfully managing to get all of their names and faces right, Gandalf announced it was time for them to head to Bilbo's house, so they all paid for their drinks and marched out of the pub, followed by the round eyes of the Hobbits, who had probably never seen so many dwarves congregated in one place before.

Once the dwarves had left, Alison suddenly had a troubling thought, and she stopped Gandalf before they could follow the dwarves out. "Gandalf, I just realized something."

"What is it, my dear?" he asked, adjusting his hat back on top of his head and gazing down at her curiously.

"I don't have any money," she said. "How can I expect to pay for my things on my own?"

Gandalf reached into the leather pouch he kept around his waist and pulled out a small sack of coins that he dumped into Alison's hands.

"Oh, no," she said, embarrassed as she tried to hand the coins back. "I couldn't possibly take your money."

"Take it," Gandalf insisted, pushing the sack back into her hands. "You'll never know when you may need it." He winked and walked out of the pub, leaving Alison standing uncertainly in the doorway. Eventually she tucked the coin pouch into one of her numerous inside pockets of her jacket and followed the dwarves and Gandalf up the path to the hill. She hoped she wouldn't be here long enough to actually use the money, but as she heard Bilbo's agitated voice coming from inside his home and saw him opening his door like a pop-gun, causing all the dwarves standing in the doorway to fall into one big, wriggling heap, she knew it was probably just wishful thinking.

Her whole life had been changed overnight by the Valar, who were convinced she was a special warrior of sorts, and as she trailed after Gandalf into Bilbo's Hobbit-hole, she had a gut feeling that things were only going to get worse for her from then on. Steeling herself, Alison entered into the fray of the Company; and after that, her long night began.

* * *

**Yayy so we're truly beginning to start the story! Sorry if it ended in a weird place, but if I had kept going this chapter would have been a novel in itself. So since it's still the same week, I guess the same question from last time can still apply, so here it is: Have you seen the Desolation of Smaug, and if yes, what did you think of it?**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, it honestly makes my day, so please keep it up!:) Thank you, lovelies!**


	3. 3: Choosing a Path

**Okay, I give up. I'm honestly such an impatient person, how could I possibly wait until this weekend to post this chapter? So I guess the whole "upload every weekend" thing can get thrown out the window, so I'll just make it to where I'll upload every chance I get! And that should also be really easy for me since 1) After this week I have a two-week holiday break (praise the lord), and 2) I just don't have a life anyway soo...**

**So here's Chapter 3 and I hope y'all like it! Also, thank y'all sosososo much for all of your reviews, y'all honestly make my day! Keep them coming!:)**

* * *

Chapter Three: Choosing a Path

Bilbo's Hobbit-hole was chaos. As Alison entered through the front door—not even having to bend her head to get in, she was so short—it was like crossing an imaginary line. On one side, there was the peaceful, relaxing lifestyle of the Hobbits of Hobbiton, content and serene in their homes and pub. And on the other side was the ecstatic energy and madness of the dwarves as they sang, laughed, and head-butted each other merrily, not having noticed Alison yet.

Alison saw poor Bilbo flitting to and fro from his dining room to the pantry, where the dwarves were raiding it and beginning to set up an impressive feast in the Hobbit's small dining room. He was attempting to tell the dwarves to put this back or stop doing that, but to no avail. The dwarves just continued on, until Bilbo finally gave up and sulked in the corner of his kitchen, glowering at them.

Alison hovered uncertainly in the entryway, not sure whether she should join them or not. She knew that there were more dwarves here that hadn't been with them in the Green Dragon after seeing a tall one with rippling muscles and tattoos on his bald head, and frankly, she was quite intimidated.

The dwarves at the pub had been kind and curious towards her, but she sensed their unease after Gandalf told them she was going on the quest with them. _Well_, she thought, as she heard a particularly loud cheer from the dwarves in the dining room, _I'm not going on the quest with them, anyway, so they have nothing to worry about._

"Are you all right, my dear?" Gandalf appeared in the hallway that led down to the kitchen, and Alison found it quite comical that the Wizard was bent almost double to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.

"I'm fine," she said tightly, as the dwarves all guffawed loudly behind Gandalf. "Just…nervous."

"What is there to be nervous about?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"You told them I'm coming on the quest, Gandalf," she said. "And I'm not. I'm taking a map, and tomorrow morning when you all leave for the Lonely Mountain, I'll be leaving for Isengard. I'm going home, even if I have to beg and plead at Saruman's feet for him to send me back. I'm not a warrior, and we both know that; the Valar made a mistake in choosing me, so I'm just going to go home and pretend like none of this ever happened, no matter how amazing it is right now."

"Why do you doubt yourself so much?" Gandalf asked her, and she looked down at her feet uncomfortably. "You've only ever known the mundane side of you; there's no telling what being in Middle-earth will do to you, how much you will change and see the world differently, and discover who you truly are."

"But that's just it," she said, looking up from her shoes and meeting Gandalf's piercing gaze. "I could _die _here, Gandalf. I wasn't trained for this—this heroic life, or whatever it is. And as much as I want to help, I can't. I don't want to go off on a quest I may never come back from."

Gandalf just looked at her for a few minutes, his expression unreadable. She feared he was going to press her further, but instead he said, "Very well. I see that I cannot force you to do something you do not wish to do. I will give you a map and tomorrow morning you can make for Isengard." Alison felt relief rush through her, until Gandalf continued. "But know this: your arrival here in Middle-earth has set in motion a chain of events that may be too late to be stopped. There is no telling what the future may bring now, and I fear that if you turn back, there will be dire consequences for our two worlds at large."

"What are you saying?" She breathed, frightened at his grave words.

"What I'm saying is this," he said, fixing her with his bright blue eyes. "The March of Time goes on, just as every day begins with a dawn and ends with the moonlight; it is constant, and it is everlasting. However, the moonlight can be darkened by a single spark, which rages into a fire, and the dawn can be shattered by the boiling of a storm. You are the spark and the storm, Alison Ashburne, and I believe that you are the catalyst that will change everything."

"I'm not," she protested weakly. "I'm not."

"But you are," he said, leaning in closer to her. "You have an immense power in your hands, Miss Ashburne, a power that the agents of this world have been searching for for thousands of years: the gift of changing the course of the future. I know you do not want it," he said, raising a hand before she could interrupt, "but it has been appointed to you, and now you must see it through until the end, whatever that end turns out to be."

Alison didn't say anything, too shaken to speak. She wanted to go home; she didn't want a part in any of this. But Gandalf's words tugged at her, and the memory of that past day filled her with an exhilarating sense of wonder she felt that she had been yearning for all her life. The truth was, she _did _want to go on an adventure. She always knew she was meant for greater things, and now here she was: descended from a special race of warriors that came from Middle-earth, having the opportunity to delve into one of her favorite childhood stories and rewrite the course of history. It was daunting and enormous, but somehow, she _wanted _this.

_Think of your family, _the rational part of her whispered. _Your mom, your brother, your sister. Remember them. _

"Think on it later tonight," Gandalf said, noticing her internal struggle. "Come to the dining room now; the rest of the Company is eager to meet you."

Feeling very nervous and shy again, Alison followed Gandalf into Bilbo's dining room. It was brightly lit with candles and very warm from the cheery fire in the hearth, and the small room was packed tightly with dwarves, all shuffling about with various items of food and drink in their arms as Bilbo still struggled to maintain order in his house.

Alison watched the scene unfold before her, torn between wanting to help the poor Hobbit and watching the dwarves grate on his nerves with a small smile on her face. Alison recognized Bombur as he walked past, laden down with three huge blocks of cheese. "A tad excessive, isn't it?" Bilbo said in defeat, watching the fat dwarf with a pained expression. "Have you got a cheese knife?"

"Cheese knife?" Bofur said, sweeping up behind Alison with a whole ham in his arms and grinning at Bilbo. "He eats it by the block." Bofur winked at Alison as he vanished into the dining room, and Bilbo looked like a wilted flower as the dwarves continued to pillage his pantry.

"Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf, Miss Ashburne?" Dori approached the two with a tray of tea cups. "Could I interest you in a cup of chamomile?"

Alison accepted one of the cups gratefully, thanking the dwarf, while Gandalf declined, stating he would prefer a small glass of red wine instead. Dori nodded and disappeared back into the fray. Alison took a sip of the brew, feeling the warmth spread to her fingers and toes and visibly relaxing her frayed nerves as Gandalf stood next to her, counting off on his fingers and listing all the dwarves he saw.

One of the dwarves from the Green Dragon, a wild, fierce-looking fellow with an axe stuck in his head came to a stop in front of them and spoke in the grumbling Dwarf language, banging his arms together in what Alison assumed to be a sign of respect. "Yes, you're quite right, Bifur." Gandalf said, and the dwarf smiled under his tangled beard before moving on. "We appear to be one Dwarf short."

"He is late, is all," said a voice from behind them, and Alison spun around into the face of the intimidating dwarf she had seen earlier. He eyed her distrustfully before addressing Gandalf. "He traveled north, to a meeting of our kin. He will come." With a last glare at Alison the dwarf left into the dining room.

"Which one is he?" Alison asked, as Dori reappeared with Gandalf's tiny glass of red wine.

"That was Dwalin," the Wizard said, draining the wine in one gulp and staring forlornly into his now-empty glass. "Don't be fazed by him, he is like that to every stranger." He said, picking up on Alison's trepidation. "Come, it is time to eat."

Alison's stomach growled in response, and she was shocked to recall that she hadn't eaten anything at all that day. The smell of the food lured her into the dining room, but before she could take more than a few steps, a heavy weight crashed into her side, and she was knocked to the floor with a small _oof_ of surprise.

"Oh, Mahal, sorry lass," a voice said, and a warm, sturdy hand helped her to her feet. Alison was suddenly looking into the blue-gray eyes of an unfamiliar dwarf with blonde hair and a beard with two separate braids on either side of his mouth. He was slightly taller than her, but not by much, and she could tell that he was very muscular underneath his heavy pelts and leather armor.

"It's fine," she said, slightly taken aback at how young the dwarf was. His face was unlined and smoother than the others from what she could see around his hair and beard, which were not nearly as long as the others'.

"You're Gandalf's companion?" he asked, releasing her hand. She just nodded as the young dwarf bowed, saying, "Fili. At your service, Miss Ashburne."

"Please, call me Alison," she said, trying not to scream as it hit her that Gandalf expected her to save this dwarf, the young one with the fair hair and pretty eyes…

_Stop it, _she told herself firmly. _Get it together. Now._

"Fili, what are you doing? The food's ready," another dwarf appeared in the hallway Alison and Fili were standing in, and Alison felt another flicker of shock as she saw how young this dwarf was, too.

He was also taller than her, but about an inch shorter than Fili, with dark hair, dark eyes, and only dark stubble on the lower half of his face, not a beard in sight. He was pleasant-looking, and Alison took comfort in the fact that it seemed not every person in Middle-earth had a beard as he came to a stop next to Fili.

"Kili," Fili said, and Alison felt another flare of panic as she realized that the two dwarf princes stood before her, young and healthy with no idea about their fates. "This is Alison Ashburne, Gandalf's companion."

The dark-haired dwarf prince also bowed to her, repeating Fili as he said, "Kili, at your service."

"Are you hungry, Alison?" Fili asked her, and Alison nodded. "Extremely."

"Right this way, then." He offered her his arm, and she took it politely as he led her into the dining room.

"So chivalrous, brother," Kili said, linking arms on Alison's other side and shooting his brother a smug smile. "Though I'm slightly offended you didn't offer to escort me to the table."

"Shut up, Kili," Fili said, rolling his eyes playfully as he drew up another chair for Alison. She sat down at the table, Fili on one side of her and Kili on the other. Immediately, food and ale started passing around the table at top speed, and before she knew it, Alison's plate was piled high with meats, bread, cheeses, fruits, and vegetables, and she dug in, not even realizing how hungry she had been until the plate was clean five minutes later.

She looked up to find the two dwarf princes staring at her. "What?" she asked, raising a hand to cover her mouth. "I don't have anything on my face, do I?"

"No, nothing like that," Fili said, his mustache braids twitching as he tried not to smile. "It's just that—"

"I don't even think Bombur could've eaten that fast," Kili said, grinning at his brother. "Hey, Bombur!" he called down the table, and the great ginger dwarf looked up from his plate, his multiple chins wobbling as he chewed. "I think you have a challenger!"

"Uh, no, I just—" Alison said, as all eyes turned to her. "I was just, um, really hungry," she finished lamely, blushing as all the dwarves still stared at her.

"You need to liven up, lass," Bofur said bluntly, causing her to blush even more. "Fili, get her an ale."

"Really, you don't have to, I'm fine," Alison tried to say as Fili obliged, passing along ales up and down the table, trying to avoid stepping in food as he walked on the table top. He clunked down a tankard in front of Alison, the foamy drink slopping over the rim a little bit as he sat back down next to her.

"All right, on the count of three!" Dori said, and all the dwarves suddenly gripped their mugs. Alison had a bad feeling she knew what was coming next as Dori counted down—"Three, two, one!"

The dwarves were suddenly all downing their ale, throwing their heads back to chug it, the liquid dripping into their beards and onto their shirts. Not knowing what else to do, and also curious, Alison tossed back her mug and began to drink, not stopping until the last drops were drained from the bottom.

They all cheered as she slammed her tankard on the table, and she smiled in spite of herself; she had never had alcohol in her life before, and she felt strangely light and giddy as Glóin began to belch across the table, making the dwarves laugh even harder. But most surprising of all was meek little Ori, who let out a burp so loud Alison thought she felt it rumble in her chest. She joined in laughing with the hysteric dwarves, finally beginning to loosen up and enjoy herself.

"So, is it true?" Dwalin spoke suddenly, meeting Alison's eyes directly from his place across the table as the laughter died down. "Are you really a descendant of Eleon Ashburne, as Gandalf would have us believe?"

The dwarves all turned to her once more interestedly, the mood taking on a more serious tone, and the four that had not been present at the Green Dragon earlier—Dwalin, Balin, Fili, and Kili—gazed at her with the most intense stares of them all.

"Eleon Ashburne?" Fili echoed, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. "Who's that?"

Alison looked helplessly to Gandalf. "I'm not sure I would be the best one to explain this," she said. "I didn't even believe in my family's history until this morning." Gandalf nodded, understanding her silent plea and taking the reins from there.

"Eleon Ashburne was one of the first great Heroes of Middle-earth," he began, and all eyes swiveled to him. "Though their origins were unknown, Heroes were regarded as very elite and the strongest warriors. Eleon Ashburne was one of the First, and sometime during the First Age, he disappeared."

Alison listened, just as enraptured as the dwarves were. Her father had always told of her first ancestor crossing into their world from another, but now she was hearing it from the point of view of someone who actually _lived _in the world Eleon had come from. As much as Alison wanted to believe that this was just some elaborate hoax, she knew it wasn't, and she focused back in on what Gandalf was saying.

"No one knew what had happened to him. But many years later, they say that they found a man walking alone across the plains of the newly formed Gondor, dressed in strange clothes and claiming to be named Johnathan Ashburne." At this, Gandalf looked at Alison, but she shrugged, her mind blank. She had never heard that name before. "It was foretold by the Valar that Johnathan would find the origins of his ancestor and journey back to Middle-earth, and to assist in one of the greatest struggles this world has ever faced: the War of the Ring."

At this, there was a collective shudder around the table, and the room seemed to grow darker, heavier. Alison, who had never gotten around to reading the _Lord of the Rings _trilogy, was confused as she noticed the dwarves' behavior. She even noticed Bilbo, who had been lurking in the corner, jump a little as he heard the words. "Umm…" she said slowly. "Am I missing something?"

"A story for another time, Miss Ashburne," Gandalf said, and she nodded reluctantly, feeling out of the loop now. "Anyway, Johnathan Ashburne assisted the Last Alliance of Elves and Men against the forces of Sauron, and when the Dark Lord was defeated, Johnathan disappeared, as well, much as Eleon did centuries before, though this time there was no record of him entering back into the mortal world. But the significance of Johnathan's arrival and Eleon's disappearance was that they set the course for all of the Ashburne line; whenever there was strife or conflict in Middle-earth, the Valar called upon the most worthy of the line to advise and assist in our world's doings. There have only been five Ashburnes since Eleon the First, making Alison the seventh to cross over into our world."

"Then it's a sign!" The one with the ear trumpet—Óin—exclaimed suddenly. "The Valar have blessed our quest if they sent in an Ashburne to help! We must go!"

"But why do we need her?" Dwalin challenged. "Gandalf said our Company could make it through the quest ourselves, he made no mention of an Ashburne before. If he has such faith in us then I say we don't need the human," he fixed her with another one of his glares. "Especially a _woman, _at that."

Alison felt her irritation rise; she was wondering when this point was going to crop up. "Just because I'm a _woman, _doesn't mean I can't help!" She said hotly, and all the dwarves looked at her in surprise over her outburst. "Women actually have a lot of power where I come from, and they're treated as equals to men. So before this goes any further, how bout we just stop measuring dicks and assume I can take care of myself, okay?"

Dead silence greeted her words. Twelve Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard all stared at her in shock, as if she had just hit one of them. After several moments of quiet, Alison's temper vanished, being replaced by a sense of embarrassment and guilt. Why did she have to choose _that _particular moment to vent out her frustration? "I'm sorry," she began awkwardly, but stopped as almost everyone began to cheer and shake her hand, howling with laughter.

Even Gandalf was chuckling, but some—like Bilbo, Dwalin, Balin, and Dori—were silent, their expressions ranging from scandalized to downright hostile from Dwalin. "Whew," Bofur said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Thorin's going to have a hard time taming this one!"

Once the laughter had died down and Alison's blush began to fade, Gandalf spoke directly to her, "But, Alison, does this mean you have reconsidered coming on the quest?"

Alison opened her mouth to speak, but her voice gave out on the word "no". She wanted to go home; she had to, for her family's sake. Even though Gandalf's words of no time moving in the mortal world while she was here were in her mind, she still felt obligated to go back. Without her father there, she had to help her mom and take care of her siblings, and how could she do that if she were dead, stuck in Middle-earth forever? But Alison was suddenly conflicted.

She was in _Middle-earth, _doing something no one else from her world had, besides her own ancestors. She was in Bilbo Baggins' dining room, laughing and eating and interacting with the Dwarf Company, something she had always dreamed of. She wanted adventure, she wanted something unpredictable, something that would forever change her repetitive life. She _needed _this. But she couldn't have it. She felt something crush down heavily on her chest as she said her next words to Gandalf.

"I can't," she said quietly. "As much as I want to, I can't. I have a family, Gandalf. What would happen if I died? I would never come back to them, and even though time does not move the same here as it does there, I'm sure they would know if I just disappeared forever. I owe them that."

Alison looked around the room; some of the Dwarves looked at her with respect and sympathy, while others looked relieved that she had declined the Wizard's offer. "Understood," Gandalf said, though she felt a pang of guilt at the disappointed look he was giving her. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, would you mind retrieving a map for Miss Ashburne for her separate journey?"

The Hobbit nodded, startled out of his intense concentration of the wall opposite him, and disappeared deeper into the Hobbit-hole, though a little warily from leaving all of the strangers in his dining room unattended.

As the Hobbit left, the rest of the Company began to scoot back their chairs and retrieve their pipes from under cloaks and out of pockets, dispersing around the house in small groups to talk and smoke.

Alison stayed seated at the table, gazing unseeingly at the table top as she traced her finger on it. She was dimly aware of Gandalf leaving into the living room along with the rest of the dwarves, except for Fili and Kili, who—much to her puzzlement—stayed beside her.

"That was a thoughtful thing you did," Fili said, breaking the silence between them. Kili nodded in agreement. "Declining the quest because of your family. Sometimes I wish that we had that option, but we're doing this _because_ our family needs their home back, as much as we do."

"That's way more thoughtful than my reason," she said unhappily, laying her hand flat on the table. "Your reason is brave and noble, while mine's just…" she trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Fortunately, Bilbo reappeared at that moment, handing her a yellowed, folded up map. "Thank you," she told him, and he offered her a slight smile in return. Suddenly there was a crash from the living room, and it was as if someone had turned up the volume on the speakers: all the dwarves began shouting and laughing once more, and the little Hobbit hurried away, already yelling for the dwarves to leave his things alone.

Alison didn't even open the map; looking at it, she felt a sense of _wrongness, _as if her gut knew her decision and was arguing against it. _This isn't right! _It screamed. _Go on the quest! Change the story!_

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly on the polished wooden floors and causing Fili and Kili to jump at her sudden movement. "Come on," she said, trying to make her voice light and happy again. "Let's go see what the others are doing."

They followed her out into the living room, passing Bofur, who was leaning casually in the doorway with his pipe, watching as Bilbo snatched a knitted cloth of some sort from the hand of a dwarf snapping, "Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!"

"But it's full of holes," Bofur stated in confusion.

"It's supposed to look like that; it's crochet."

"Oh, and a wonderful game it is, too," Bofur's eyes twinkled mischievously. "If you got the balls for it."

"Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!" Alison heard Bilbo mutter angrily before walking out of earshot. She ventured deeper into the living room, coming to an empty armchair and plopping herself down in it, all the excitement and shock of that day beginning to creep up on her, making her eyes droop with exhaustion. She had lost Fili and Kili to another group of dwarves, but she didn't mind; she wanted to be alone for a while.

She was holding Bilbo's map in her hand still, and she shoved it into her pocket, still not wanting to look at it yet. It would just make it harder for her to accept the fact that she was going to venture out on her own around Middle-earth with no guide and no experience. But no matter. She would make it home, she told herself, even if it took everything she had.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard Bilbo suddenly exclaim behind her: "I just don't understand what they're doing in my house!" And then Ori's innocent little voice: "Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?" Alison turned, thinking the dwarf was talking to her, but instead she saw Bilbo and Gandalf standing in the entryway with Ori before them.

Before Bilbo could answer, though, Fili came over and took the plate from Ori's hands. "Here you go, Ori, give it to me." He threw it down the hallway like a Frisbee, where Kili caught it with one hand and in turn tossed it back into the kitchen. Instantly, all the dwarves were involved in the game of throwing plates and silverware to each other, cleaning it as they did so. Alison got to her feet, watching in awe as the dwarves effortlessly tossed dishes to each other, Bilbo squeaking "Excuse me! That's my mother's Westfarthing pottery; it's over a hundred years old!"

Alison walked into the kitchen, trying to avoid the cutlery and plates whizzing past her, listening as a group of dwarves began to create a beat with some knives and their feet. Bilbo pushed by her, his voice indignant as he said, "Can you please not do that? You'll blunt them!"

"Ooh, d'you hear that lads?" Bofur said. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"

Behind her, Kili began to sing, his voice deep and full of laughter: "_Blunt the knives, bend the forks!"_

And then from farther down the hallway, Fili's voice: _"Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" _

All the dwarves joined in singing, still cleaning and juggling with the dishes, and Alison was amazed as she recognized the lyrics.

"_Chip the glasses and crack the plates,_

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

_Cut the cloth and tread on the fat,_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom-mat,_

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor!_

_Splash the wine on every door,_

_Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl,_

_Pound them up with a thumping-pole._

_When you've finished, if any are whole,_

_Send them down the hall to roll!"_

Alison joined in with the last verse of the song as the Hobbit came barreling into the kitchen "_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" _and laughed at the stupefied look on his face as he realized that all of his dishes were stacked and clean on his dining table, all fortunately unbroken. But the laughter died shortly as there was a sudden pounding on the door down the hall, loud and booming.

Gandalf spoke ominously into the silence that had befallen the Company, three simple words that managed to send a chill down Alison's spine: "He is here."

* * *

**Oooh, Thorin has arrived yayy! Sorry for the cliffhanger, but you know, that's how just how I do. Soooo in this chapter we got to meet Fili and Kili *wink wink* and I want y'all to make a wild guess about who the love interest will be, since I've been pretty hush-hush about it so far! Oh, and just a casual hint, I would keep my eye on the name Johnathan Ashburne, if I were you...**

**Sorry if I'm not making any sense, but these finals are draining me! So I'll round this off with this chapter's question: What is your favorite part about the holidays, since they're just around the corner? And you can make your guess about the love interest too! So that's it for now, but I'll be back later in the week with a new chapter! Thank you again for everyone who reviewed and please keep it up, I love hearing y'all's feedback! Bye, lovelies!:)**


	4. 4: Into the Wild

*****WARNING*** THIS CHAPTER IS LONG! Gosh, it's so long, I'm so sorry, I didn't even realize until I had finished it. But I didn't want to split it into two separate chapters or else that would throw the whole thing off. So just a heads up! But anyway. Today was our last day before winter break, and I am sooooo happy! Now I can sit on my laptop and do absolutely nothing for two weeks, which means I will also be updating this story frequently!:) So without further ado, here is the long Chapter 4!**

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Chapter Four: Into the Wild

Everyone piled into Bilbo's entryway as Gandalf went to open the door. Alison felt a strange sense of foreboding as she lurked near the back of the Company, not sure how she should act around Thorin, for he _was_ the Dwarf King. And she wasn't all that keen to discover how Thorin would react once he found out Gandalf had tried to rope her into their quest.

Gandalf opened the round door, and there, silhouetted against the moonlight over Bag-End, was Thorin Oakenshield.

Alison didn't know why the book had made him out to be so plain. As the pale light shone down on him, she thought she had never seen a more kingly person in her life. His hair was long and black, like a raven's wing streaked with gray. His face was thin and angular, with deep-set eyes of a gray-blue that matched Fili's, yet darker, more intense. He also did not have an abnormally long beard, but a well trimmed one that circled the lower half of his face. As Alison looked at him, with his sword strapped to his waist and heavy fur coat over his thick armor, she wondered why she had thought Dwalin was so intimidating. Thorin radiated authority, and it was all she could do to not drop to her knees and bow before him, screaming "I'm not worthy!"

Then she mentally slapped herself. _He's a Dwarf King, not a god. Get yourself together._

"Gandalf," Thorin said, stepping over the threshold. His voice was low and rich, and Alison immediately compared it to the likes of Morgan Freeman, it was so amazing. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find; I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

He shrugged off his fur pelt, which Dwalin placed on the coat rack by the front door as Bilbo pushed his way to the front of the throng, saying, "Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark, I put it there myself," Gandalf replied easily, shutting the front door. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce you to the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin surveyed the Hobbit with unreadable eyes. "So, this is the Hobbit." He said it flatly, almost carelessly, as if he had suspected Bilbo's reaction and appearance and was not surprised by it. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" Bilbo asked confusedly, as the dwarf king began to circle around him, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes.

"Axe or sword, what's your weapon of choice?" He continued, coming to a stop before Bilbo as if he hadn't heard him.

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," the Hobbit said, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. "But I fail to see why that's relevant."

"I thought as much," Thorin said. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The other dwarves laughed, and Thorin glanced around at them all, taking them in, but froze when his eyes landed on Alison. "And who is this?" He asked, shooting a look at Gandalf as he approached her. "There was no mention of a woman to be at this place."

"Thorin Oakenshield, meet Alison Ashburne," Gandalf said, coming up behind the king. Alison tried not to gulp as Thorin gave her the same once-over he had Bilbo, his eyes unfathomable as he took her in. At Gandalf's words, though, he stiffened, and his mouth twitched as he turned to Gandalf.

"An Ashburne?" He said quietly, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees as Thorin looked back to her, his eyes now full of understanding and anger. Apparently he knew what her presence meant for him and his Company. "The Valar mean for this girl to help us in our quest?" He demanded of no one in particular, and he received no answer. "She seems like a gust of wind would do her in."

_Oh, for heaven's sake, _she thought angrily. _Not this again. _

"Luckily for you, _Thorin Oakenshield," _she emphasized his name sarcastically, and his face tightened at her tone. "This fluffy little bunny isn't coming on your quest, so there's no need to get your hair in a twist."

The dwarves, who had been so amused by her similar comment to Dwalin earlier, now looked between their king and her fearfully, as if she were about to be stomped on by Thorin's heavy iron-shod shoes. Alison wasn't going to apologize this time, though; she'd had enough of gender stereotypes for one night, and there was no point in being all feminine and polite; she'd be gone tomorrow, anyway, and they would both head their separate ways.

After a few tense minutes of silence, Thorin stepped up to her, and she felt another flash of anger as she realized that he was taller than her, too. What was the point in calling them 'dwarves' if she was still shorter than half of them? "You would do well to hold your tongue, Miss Ashburne," he said quietly, so the others had to strain to hear. "Warrior ancestor or not, it could lead you to serious trouble one day if you are not wise enough to keep your comments to yourself."

At that, he brushed past her into the dining room, followed by the other dwarves, who shot her furtive glances and looked away quickly as they trailed after him. Alison stayed where she was, breathing out a small sigh of relief that the dwarf king hadn't demanded her head or anything after that. Gandalf stood with her, looking at her with his arms crossed and his face folded into a frown.

"He is right, you know," he said.

Alison resisted the urge to snort. "He was being rude to Bilbo," she defended herself. "And I'm tired of all these guys thinking I can't handle myself."

"But can you?" The Wizard raised his eyebrows at her. "You said so yourself you had no experience or training of any kind, and no offense to you, my dear, but it is evident that your words are true. As of right now," he added as an afterthought.

"Whatever," she grumbled, annoyed that the Wizard had brought that point up. "I just want to get out of here."

"I'm afraid you will have to wait until tomorrow morning," Gandalf said. "Right now we must finalize our plans for departure. So, if you would be so kind—" he gestured to the dining room, and Alison reluctantly moved down the hallway. "And this time, please try to keep civil." He said in her ear.

She grit her teeth and said nothing, stalking into the dining room and choosing a seat as far away from Thorin—who was at the head of the table—as possible, throwing herself down between Kili and the wall behind her. She could feel their eyes burning into her, but she kept her head down as Gandalf had requested, focusing on a random spot on her jeans as their meeting convened.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked, as Bilbo set down a bowl of stew in front of the dwarf king. "Did they all come?"

"Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms," Thorin replied, spooning a bite into his mouth.

The dwarves all rumbled hopefully, their faces lighting up. "And what did the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin hesitated, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "They will not come."

What small hope the dwarves had had before vanished, being replaced by disappointment. Alison looked up from her lap, a stab of pity going through her as she saw how dejected all of them looked. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

"You're…going on a quest?" Bilbo piped up from his place at Gandalf's shoulder.

"Ah, Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," the Wizard said, and Bilbo retrieved a candle from the mantel over the fireplace, coming back as Gandalf took out a map from beneath his cloak and spread it over the table. "Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

In spite of herself, Alison leaned in for a closer look, along with the other dwarves and Bilbo. "The Lonely Mountain," he read over Gandalf's shoulder, and Alison saw a lone mountain on the map, with a blood-red dragon appearing to be flying over it.

"Aye, Óin has read the portents, and the portents say, it is time," Glóin broke in, and some of the others began to mumble and sigh at the fiery-haired dwarf's words.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold," Óin said over the mutterings. "When the birds of Old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

"Uh…what beast?" Bilbo asked, his eyes wide.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our Age," Bofur answered easily. "Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors. Claws like meat hooks; extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo said, now looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

Suddenly Ori rose from his seat, his large, innocent cow-eyes defiant as he said, "I'm not afraid, I'm up for it! I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksy!"

The others cheered him on and Alison smiled while Dori hissed, "Sit down!" and pulled him back into his chair.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin said over the clamor. "But we number just thirteen; and not thirteen of the best…nor brightest."

The dwarves all began to argue at once, and though it was a serious matter, Alison snickered as she heard one of them interject: "Hey, who are you calling dim?" There was suddenly a loud slap on the table, and the dwarves grew silent; Alison looked to her right and saw Fili, his easy smile gone to be replaced by a fierce expression.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us! To the last Dwarf!" He declared.

"And you forget we have a Wizard in our Company!" Kili said excitedly, almost knocking Alison off her stool as he gesticulated broadly. "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"

Alison fought down a laugh as all eyes turned expectantly to Gandalf, knowing that wasn't true at all. "Oh, well, no. I—uh…"

"How many then?" Dori asked.

"What?"

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" Gandalf began to cough awkwardly on his pipe smoke. "Go on, give us a number!"

And suddenly all the dwarves were on their feet, arguing and yelling, and Alison sat still, not quite sure what to do. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Thorin stood up from his seat and roared "Enough!"

Immediately everyone sat down, still and silent once more.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" He asked, his eyes traveling along the table and flicking over Alison like she wasn't even there. "Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" The others roared in approval as Thorin shook his fist, proclaiming something in what Alison assumed to be the Dwarvish language.

"You forget the front gate is sealed," Balin reminded, and a distant part of Alison wondered why he was such a party-pooper, though she knew he was only being practical. "There is no other way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf interjected, and suddenly there was a gleaming, oddly-shaped key in his hand. The others stared at it in awe; even Thorin, seated again, looked thunderstruck as he saw the key. "How came you by this?" he whispered.

"It was given to me by your father, Thráin, for safekeeping," the Wizard answered. "It is yours now." He handed the key to Thorin, who took it carefully, almost reverently, still staring at it.

"If there is a key, there must be door!" Fili said, as if he had just realized this.

Gandalf pointed to the map, nodding. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in," Kili said, grinning as he clasped Fili's and Alison's shoulders in an excited grip.

"Well, if we can find it," Gandalf amended. "But Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it; but there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" Ori exclaimed.

"Hmm, and a good one, too," Bilbo said, gazing interestedly at the map. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" Glóin asked, raising a thick eyebrow at the Hobbit.

"Am I what?"

Óin pointed to Gandalf, his ear trumpet in his ear as he said, "He said he's an expert!"

"Me?" Bilbo said. "Oh, no, no, no, no. I—I'm not a burglar! I've never stolen a thing in my life!"

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins," Balin said. "He's hardly burglar material."

"Aye, the Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin added, with a vague glance in Alison's direction. She had to bite her tongue as the dwarves all started arguing again, and almost missed Gandalf as he stood from his seat, towering over the rest of them.

"Enough!" He said in a magnified voice, and Alison's jaw dropped; Gandalf glowered at them from his great height, and it seemed that all the shadows in the room were warping and twisting around the Wizard, casting his lined face into deeper contrast. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" And as quickly as they had come, the shadows receded again, leaving all of them in a shocked wake. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," the Wizard continued in a normal tone, as if carrying on about the weather. "In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him, giving us a distinct advantage."

Thorin looked like he had swallowed a lemon, and Alison got the faint idea that they had had this argument before, though Thorin's attitude still hadn't changed about it. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of our Company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins," Gandalf reminded Thorin. "There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself." Bilbo looked up at this, his expression half-anxious, half-grateful.

"You must trust me on this," the Wizard said directly to Thorin.

"Very well," Thorin said sullenly. "We'll do it your way." Bilbo started to protest, but Thorin ignored him. "Give him the contract."

Balin rose to his feet, removing a thick packet of parchment from underneath his cloak and handing it to Thorin, who shoved it unceremoniously into Bilbo's objecting arms. "It's just the usual summary," the white-haired Dwarf said. "Pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, and so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" The Hobbit repeated in bafflement, as he began to read the contract out loud to himself. Thorin had stood up and was whispering to Gandalf, who looked grave as he listened to Thorin's words, only muttering, "Understood" and "Agreed."

"Uh…" Bilbo said from the hallway, and everyone's attention snapped back to him. "'The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to…" he brought the contract closer to his face. "Lacerations? Evisceration?" He unfolded a side part to the document. "_Incineration?" _

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur said cheerily, and if he was close enough, Alison would've kicked him under the table.

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked sympathetically, as Bilbo swayed slightly.

"Huh? Yes, um, fine," he replied weakly. He took a deep breath. "I feel a bit faint."

Bofur got up from his seat and leaned through the opening, saying, "Think furnace, with wings!"

Bilbo hunched over, hands on knees. "I…I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then puff! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo thought for a moment; for a second, Alison thought he was going to be fine as he straightened up. But one look over at the dwarves watching him, the Hobbit said "No." and collapsed on the spot.

"Oh, very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf said exasperatedly, joining the Dwarf as they herded Bilbo into his living room.

"As I said earlier," Dwalin said pointedly, once the Wizard was out of earshot.

"Gandalf's right, you know." Alison said. Now that Gandalf wasn't there, she could speak freely again, though she did try to watch her tongue a bit. "Bilbo has it in him, he just doesn't believe it himself, yet."

"And what do you know of a Hobbit's bravery?" Dwalin asked. "You supposedly come from another world; how could you possibly know anything about this matter?"

"I just know, okay?" It was a weak defense, but Alison thought it would be better than saying _I know all this because in my world you're all really just a bunch of fictional characters, and I can guarantee that three of you sitting here now will die by the end of this quest, so don't question me! _But of course, that would go over _real _well. "I mean, all of you were like him once, with no idea what it's like out in the Wild, no experience, nothing. But if all of you can overcome your fears of the unknown and find your courage to step out beyond your doorstep, who's to say Bilbo can't do the same?"

No one challenged her, and she felt a flicker of pride as even Thorin kept his comments to himself.

Suddenly exhausted again, Alison stood up from her seat, trying not to fall over from fatigue. "If that's all for tonight." she said, and left the room in search of Gandalf, wondering where she was supposed to sleep. She knew for sure that she would _not _be bunking with the dwarves tonight; she'd rather sleep outside.

She found Gandalf in the living room, waiting for Bilbo to come to in the armchair Alison had occupied earlier while Bofur went back into the dining room with the others.

"I heard what you said back there," the Wizard said, before Alison could even open her mouth. "That was a very generous thing you did in Bilbo's defense."

"Yeah, well, anything to convince them that they need him," she said, embarrassed at the Wizard's praise. "How is he?"

"He'll be fine," he said. "It was just a shock. He'll be around in a minute. Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Yes," she said. "Uh, where should I sleep?"

"I believe there is a guest bedroom down the second hallway, last door on the left," he replied. Bilbo began to stir, and Alison nodded. "Right, then. See you in the morning."

Gandalf didn't reply as Bilbo sat up, and Alison ventured down the second hallway, coming to the door Gandalf had said and stepping inside to a quaint, plain bedroom. She shut the door behind her and leaned her back against it, trying to wind down from the day's events.

She noticed a door to her left, on the other side of the bedroom, and she crossed to it, peeking inside to see a washroom. Taking a candle from the bedroom and lighting a lamp in the bathroom with it, she saw a large tub in the corner, empty, but presumably used for baths, and a counter in the other corner, a basin of water atop it as a sort of sink with a small square mirror above it.

She went to the sink, dipping her hands in the cool water and splashing some on her face, enjoying the refreshing feel on her heated body. She glanced in the mirror as well, expecting to see a completely different person, but there she was: still the same Alison Ashburne as the one she saw in her mirror back home yesterday. But she also felt different, more…comfortable.

She had always been small and slim for her age, bordering on delicate, but not quite; she had been involved in some sports, so she wasn't weak, but she wasn't super muscular, either. But being in Middle-earth had done something to her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it yet. All she knew was that she felt more grounded somehow, as if she had just tripped and was steadying her balance again.

Sighing, she gathered her hair behind her head, not even that bothered she didn't have a hairbrush. Her hair was always straight, no matter what she did to it. Relieved that she still had a hair tie on her wrist, she tied her hair back. A feeling of homesickness washed over her as she noticed that she didn't have a toothbrush or deodorant or anything with her, but she pushed it aside, reminding herself that she'd be home soon and none of that would matter.

Putting out the lamp, Alison made her way back into the bedroom and blew out all the candles save for the one on the nightstand. She sat on the bed, kicking off her boots and removing the map and coin pouch from her pockets before taking off her jacket. With another pang of homesickness over the fact she had no pajamas, she threw back the comfy white sheets and duvet and lay on her side, pressing her face into the soft downy pillows and waiting for sleep to overcome her.

A dull throb began to emanate from her hip, though, and she sat up, checking her jeans pocket and discovering a hard tube of some sort. She pulled it out, and saw by the light of her one candle that it was a thing of chapstick. "Really?" She asked out loud, wondering if the universe was playing some sort of cosmic joke on her. So she could fall into Middle-earth with a pair of pants and a tube of mint-smelling chapstick, but not anything important, like food or medical supplies? Why not give her a fifty-pound block of concrete while she was at it, so she could add another thing to her list of useless items she had been stuck with.

Placing her chapstick on the nightstand and blowing out the last candle, Alison attempted to fall asleep, but it wasn't happening. Despite her physical exhaustion, her mind was flying at top speed, and she couldn't get that day out of her head. Finding out that her dad's stories of warrior ancestors were true, being offered to go on the Erebor quest, meeting her favorite fictional characters: it was all too much for her brain to handle.

So she lay awake for a long time, until she began to hear a rich, deep humming coming from the living room. Propping her head up, Alison began to hear slow, soothing words, and with a shock, she recognized Thorin's voice; he was _singing. _

"_Far over the Misty Mountains cold, _

_To dungeons deep and caverns old._

_We must away ere break of day,_

_To find our long forgotten gold."_

Alison listened raptly, her heart squeezing at the words; they carried ancient sorrow, but a hint of strength, as if the words were filling her with a courage long since buried. The other dwarves joined in singing, and Alison felt her spirit soar, imagining the words sweeping her away, over distant landscapes and fantastical places, and that same longing feeling she had gotten earlier when she said she couldn't go on the quest filled her up again as she went on listening:

"_The pines were roaring on the height,_

_The winds were moaning in the night._

_The fire was red, it flaming spread,_

_The trees like torches, blazed with light."_

The song had ended, and Alison heard the dwarves begin to settle down for the night, but she lay awake still, replaying the words over and over in her head. That same lingering feeling persisted, clouding her thoughts, and it was a long time before she was finally lured to sleep.

* * *

"You wake her up."

"What? No! You do it."

"Why me?"

"Because I'm ordering you to."

"_Ordering _me? You can't play that card on me just because you're too afraid to wake a lady from her sleep, next heir to the throne or not—"

"Kili—"

"You know I can hear you, right?" Alison grumbled sleepily, half-opening her eyes to see Fili and Kili standing uncomfortably in the doorway, guilty expressions on their faces as they realized she was awake.

"Apologies, Alison," Fili said. "But the Company is preparing to leave, and Gandalf requested we wake you so you can start on your own journey."

Alison closed her eyes again and groaned; she had completely forgotten that she was to make for Isengard that day, and then she felt a rush of panic; how was she supposed to get to Isengard by herself, with nothing except a small pouch of coins and the clothes on her back? And not to mention her chapstick.

"Are you all right?" Kili asked, coming over to sit on the bed, bouncing the mattress as he did so. Alison thought this was a bold move for someone he had just met, but he didn't seem troubled with it, though Fili gave him a disapproving look from the doorway.

"Just peachy," she replied, her voice muffled by the pillow. She still couldn't bring herself to get out of the comfortable bed.

"Well, come on then! Let's get a move on," Kili encouraged her, and she only groaned again in reply.

"We're leaving in an hour," Fili said, as his brother rejoined him at the doorway. "So that'll give you enough time to get up and eat before you go."

"Cool," she said, giving them a thumbs-up as she pulled the covers back over her head. She heard their footsteps retreat back down the hall, and she sighed, knowing she had to leave the warmth of the bed to prepare for her trip.

She got up, pulling back on her boots and jacket and refilling her pockets with her things. She thought about leaving the chapstick behind, but decided against it; after all, she never knew if her lips might get chapped on the road, so better safe than sorry. She pocketed the tube, as well, and redid her ponytail, using her fingers to comb some of the snarls out of her hair.

After making the bed and checking that she had everything—which didn't take long, considering she had virtually nothing—she ventured back out into the main Hobbit-hole, finding the Company and Gandalf all seated at the dining table again, though the atmosphere was much different from the night before. Nearly all the dwarves were still half-asleep, trying to revive over hot mugs of coffee, and there was barely a word of conversation as pale dawn light washed the room in a rosy glow.

"Ah, Alison, good morning!" Gandalf greeted cheerfully as she stumbled sleepily into the one available seat, which was between Dwalin and Thorin, much to her distaste. "Did you sleep well?"

She only grunted in reply, staring at the breakfast platters before her. She knew she should probably eat before setting out on the road, but couldn't bring herself to do it; after remembering her quest to Isengard, her stomach had knotted anxiously, and she was too scared to even considering eating now. So instead she filled a cup of coffee and took a sip, not even tasting the liquid as it scalded down her throat. She noticed then that her hands were shaking, and she clunked down the mug before anyone else noticed.

Unfortunately Thorin had seen, and she wanted to crawl under the table as he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "So, Miss Ashburne, I hear you are making for Isengard."

"Yeah, I am," she managed to choke out around the tight ball of anxiety in her throat. "What makes you so interested in what I'm doing?"

He shrugged disinterestedly. "I had thought that after your comments last night you were determined to come on the quest."

"I have a family," she said for about the millionth time. "They need me. I would be abandoning them if I came with you."

"Understandable." He said, and she thought she caught a hint of respect in his hard eyes before it was gone, being replaced by his unreadable look again. "You are to come with us to the Green Dragon," he said. "We have supplies for you there with our other things, and then you can make for Isengard."

She nodded, her throat now too tight to speak as her fear mounted higher. "You should eat something, lass," Balin encouraged her, but she shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure you're all right, Alison?" Kili asked her. "You look pale."

She only shook her head again, her stomach clenching, and she noticed that her hands, which she had placed on the table, were vibrating uncontrollably, causing the whole table to quiver.

"I need air." She gasped, practically running from the room and out the front door, gripping the front gate as her stomach heaved, wanting to throw up but not having anything in it. She gulped in deep lungfuls of air, trying to calm herself. She had to look strong; she had to. She had to show them she wasn't some scared little girl running off into the woods with an unclear head.

After several minutes of breathing and trying to relax, she felt a bit better, and didn't even realize someone was behind her until she heard a little cough, and she spun around, not surprised to see Gandalf standing there.

"You're scared." He stated simply, and she coughed out a harsh laugh that seemed to grate on her throat.

"'Scared' is an understatement," she said. "I don't know who I'm kidding; this quest is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible if you give all of your effort," he said, and Alison waited for him to continue with more sappy motivational stuff, but he stayed silent. This wasn't some little kids' story, she remembered, where the wise old wizard said some encouraging words that made her suck it up and be brave; this was real, and they both knew that the real world didn't work like that. After all, it had been her choice. She had made this decision, and now she had to go it alone.

"Come inside," he insisted. "Eat some food before you set out. You'll be amazed at how better you'll feel once your stomach is full."

"No thanks," she said, as her stomach curled at the mention of food. "I'm fine as it is."

The Wizard shrugged. "As you wish. But I'd still eat if I were you; food is scarce on the road, and your rations can only last for so long."

Alison slumped against the gate, knowing he was right. "Fine," she gave in. "But if I puke on your shoes, we'll know who to blame."

* * *

An hour later, the Company, Gandalf, and Alison left Bilbo's house just as the sun had risen over Bag-end and Hobbiton. As they made their way down the hill, Hobbits were beginning to stir, putting out their laundry on clothes lines and starting the arduous task of farming and herding, and opening shops for the day. They ambled into the center of the village, and Hobbits gazed at them half-curiously, half-fearfully as they made for the stables behind the Green Dragon, where the dwarves' ponies and supplies were.

After Alison had managed to choke down a few slices of bacon and a mouthful of eggs, the Company had tidied Bilbo's house and left. Apparently the Hobbit had decided not to go on the quest, but Alison wasn't worried; she knew Bilbo would change his mind, and it seemed Gandalf did, too, for he had left out the contract in the living room for the Hobbit to find.

On the way to the stables, the dwarves—or at least, the ones who were more comfortable with her, like Fili, Kili, and Bofur—had tried to keep her spirits up, but it wasn't helping much. Alison was a tightly wound ball of mental strain, and she felt like she was about to snap any second.

They reached the stables, and the Company began the final stages of their preparations, checking and double-checking their packs and ponies for supplies, cataloging to make sure they had all their weapons, and other similar things. Alison stood off to the side, trying not to be in the way, and she watched the dwarves as they got ready to leave. There was a nervous excitement in the air as they prepared, and she envied them; they had been trained for this, they knowingly knew what they were going to do, while she…she was lost, even before she had began.

She looked up as she heard footsteps approaching, and Fili came up, looking sort of awkward. "Alison," he said, somewhat stiffly, and she wondered what had made him so tense all of a sudden. Then, gazing over his shoulder, she saw Kili fiddling with his horse's packs, looking as if he were trying to keep from laughing. Once he saw her looking, though, he dropped his gaze, still grinning, and she was suddenly very curious as to what was going on.

Her attention snapped back to Fili as he held out his hand, and she stared blankly at it, not really processing what it meant. There was a longish, thin blade in his hands, encased in a plain, black leather sheath with a simple stone hilt. "Um…it's nice?" she said, not really understanding what the dwarf prince was getting at.

"It's for you," he said patiently, holding it out to her more as she made no move to take it. She just looked at him strangely. "Look, I'm not comfortable with the idea of a Lady venturing off into the woods without at least something to protect her. So, please, take it."

She reluctantly took the knife, not knowing what to do with it. It was heavy and solid in her palm, and it gave her a greater sense of safety as she held it carefully. And, suddenly, to her horror, her eyes began to fill with tears.

"Alison? What's wrong? I didn't offend you, did I?" Fili asked worriedly.

"No, it's just…allergies," she said, scrubbing furiously at her eyes. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she nodded, blinking hard as the tears of gratitude receded.

"Thank you," she said, not really meeting the Dwarf's eyes. "But I honestly have no idea how to use this."

"Oh, that's easy," he said. "Just swing and slash until you hit something. I would teach you how to properly use one, but as we're going different ways…"

"Yeah." She said, for lack of anything better to say. "Um, where should I put it?"

"If I may?" He held out his hand, and she placed the knife back into it. Then he bent down and began to strap it into the inside of her boot; she was amazed as he stood back up, the knife now secured in her shoe, just like she had seen in so many action movies.

"Impressive," she said, and she met his eyes this time, grinning at the clear depths as he nodded, smiling.

"I hope you were referring to me with that statement," Kili said cheekily, coming up to them with a backpack of sorts in one hand and leading a shaggy black pony in the other.

"Definitely," Alison said sarcastically, breaking eye contact with Fili as she looked to the other prince. "Is all that for me?"

"It is," he confirmed, dangling out the backpack to her. She took it and swung it on her back, the straps digging into her shoulders as it turned out to be heavier than she had imagined. "Sheesh, what's all in here?" she said, staggering a bit under the weight.

"Enough food for a long journey, two water skins, basic medical supplies like bandaging wrap and healing herbs…" Kili ticked off all the items on his fingers as he went, and finally Alison held up a hand, saying, "Okay, okay, I get it. A lot of stuff."

"Always better to be prepared," Kili said, handing over the reins. Alison took them a little apprehensively; even though she lived in Texas, she had only ridden a horse once, back when she was in fifth grade, and her skills were definitely not the best. "Do you need anything else for your journey?" he asked her, watching as she hesitantly rubbed the pony's face in what she hoped to be a calming, trusting gesture.

"It sounds like I have everything I need," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile as the horse nuzzled her hand affectionately. "Thank you, really. For…your kindness, last night and today, with this." She gestured to the pony and the backpack. "Both of you. Thanks."

They only smiled and bowed a little bit in return as Gandalf strode up to them, leading a large brown horse behind him. "Are you ready for your departure, Miss Ashburne?" The Wizard asked, and she nodded, feeling her fingertips go numb with fear at the very prospect. "Good. Do you still have that map?"

She nodded again, pulling out the old piece of parchment from her jacket pocket and opening it for the first time. The language was English, bless the Valar or whoever, but the pronunciations sounded weird in her head as she studied the map intently. She had to bring the map close to her face before she found Isengard, which was in a southerly direction from Hobbiton, which she found faster than the latter. There was a road from the Shire to Isengard, called the North-South Road, and she felt relief that there was at least a road she could follow instead of trekking through the wilderness.

"I think I know where to go," she said, and the Wizard patted her shoulder bracingly.

"You will make it to Isengard," he said. "I have the utmost confidence in you."

She said nothing, wishing that she could believe that about herself as well. "Now, are you ready?" Gandalf asked, and she nodded for about the thousandth time, feeling that icy-hot flash of fear and panic coating her stomach again. "Then may you travel well and safe, my dear Alison. And if the Valar permit it, then maybe we will see each other again someday." His eyes twinkled mysteriously, as if he knew something she didn't, and she wondered what that look could possibly mean.

"Thank you for everything, Gandalf," she said sincerely. "I wish that I could come with you all but…my place is in the mortal world. And I hope to see you again someday, too, so you can remind me this wasn't all some crazy dream." The Wizard chuckled at this, and she looked around at the Company, who were all standing around them and watching.

Alison tried for a brave smile, and gave a jaunty wave to the Company. "Well, bye. It was great to meet all of you." And then, to her surprise, the Company all said their good-byes and bowed to her slightly, even Dwalin, while Thorin inclined his head a few inches; that shocked Alison beyond anything else, and she gave another half-smile and wave before leading her horse out into the village.

She looked down at the map, then back up at the village, silently cursing herself as she realized she had no idea which way the North-South Road was. Maybe she should've paid attention in her world geography classes freshman year, after all.

She remembered something about the sun rising in the east and setting in the west; or no, was it the other way around? The sun was hovering sort of in the middle between her right side and her left, so she had no clue which way to walk; taking her best guess, she turned to the right, but stopped as she heard a cough behind her.

The Company all stood behind her with Gandalf, and she noticed they were smirking and snickering. "What?" she demanded.

"The North-South Road would be to your left, my dear girl," Gandalf said, pointing to the left. "Once you're out of the village, there will be a fork in the road, and _then_ you will take the right one."

"Oh," she said stupidly. "Right." So she turned around and went left out of the village, leading her horse behind her. She waved embarrassedly to the Company again as she passed, and then she was making her way out of the village. At the last second, she turned and looked behind her; this was the last time she was ever going to see Hobbiton in her life, and she felt a pang of nostalgia and regret as the sun washed the village and the hill of Bag-End in soft golden light. With a final shake of her head, she walked out of the village, not looking back again until she had left it far behind.

* * *

Alison was in a rotten mood.

Her butt was sore, her back and legs were in cramps, and not to mention it being extremely hot under the constant glare of the sun. The North-South Road offered no protection from the scorching rays, so the best she could do was keep her head down to avoid it and try not to drain her water skin in one thirsty gulp.

Forget the thrill and fear of adventure; Alison had never been more miserable in her life. The road was completely devoid of any other living creature, leaving her alone to brood, sweat, and simmer in the late afternoon sunlight. Her fear had all been replaced by discomfort and irritation, and she tried not to scream out of frustration as her horse carried her on, farther into the lands beyond the Shire, every step closer to Isengard.

Why, _why _had the Valar chosen her for this stupid between-worlds trip? She couldn't fathom what any of it meant, unless they did, in fact, want her to change the story. Which led her to the next question: how did the Valar even know about the story? Unless they could also magically teleport themselves to Earth, which wouldn't surprise her; everyone else seemed to get there in the blink of an eye if they wanted to, yet it was supposed to take her months to cross back over the veil.

And then she felt a crippling surge of guilt as another thought came unbidden to her mind. Even if the Valar didn't know how the story would end, Gandalf did, and she did, too. Thorin, Fili, and Kili. Their deaths would be caused by the quest they were going on, and Alison felt bile rise to her throat.

She had met them; she had linked arms with Fili and Kili, laughed at their jokes, and Fili had given her a knife to protect herself with. She had argued with Thorin, and he had respected her for choosing her family over them. She had met the line of Durin. And now she had left them to die.

These thoughts plagued her as her horse bore her steadily on, and an internal war erupted within her.

_Go back! _One part of her screamed. _Go back and find them! Do as Gandalf said. Save them from their fate!_

_ I can't! My family! _The other part yelled back. _They need me. I can't die and leave them alone!_

_ And what about the Durin's folk? You're just going to let them die? Fili and Kili have a mother and Thorin a sister, as well. Do you want her to suffer over the loss of her own family?_

Alison struggled for several more minutes; her heart felt like it was being cleaved in two. She couldn't forget her family and run off on some quest in another world, but she couldn't knowingly let Fili, Kili, and Thorin die, either. They had people who cared about them, too.

She was so wrapped up in her conflicting thoughts that she didn't even feel the heat of feral eyes on her back.

Finally, Alison came to a decision. "Damn it, you freaking line of Durin," she snarled, and she jerked on her horse's reins, causing it to whinny in protest as she swung it back around and nudged it with the heel of her boots. The horse shot back down the way they had come, heading back for Hobbiton.

There, Alison would reach the crossroads and take the horse down the left side, down the Great East Road she knew the Company to be taking.

She loved her family, she truly did, and she didn't want to risk her life; but if she knew that someone had foreseen her own fate, that she would die, she would want someone to help save her instead of walking away, and letting the guilt eat away at her for the rest of her life.

The sun was beginning to set as Alison thundered back down the road. Semi-familiar landmarks were starting to appear out of the dusk, and she spurred her horse on, whispering, "Come on, Hidalgo, ride." She had no idea why she had started to call the horse that, but it seemed appropriate.

By nightfall, they had reached the crossroads, and Alison turned Hidalgo to the left, speeding him down the Great East Road. At this rate, she might be able to reach the Dwarves by dawn, and by God she would force herself on that quest, even if Thorin would rather eat his own arm than accept her into the Company. She would save them; she would.

Too absorbed in her own thoughts, Alison had never realized she was being followed until that moment, when it was already too late.

She felt a chill run down her spine, and she compared it to the saying _"As if someone had walked over her grave". _She turned her head at the last second, and saw something massive leap towards her, fangs bared for the kill and a bone-chilling howl tearing from the creature's throat as it lunged.

* * *

**Mwahaha cliff-hangers are so great. Thank you all for all of your wonderful reviews, y'all are truly so nice! I fangirled over your last reviews in class the other day and everyone looked at me like I had lost it but y'all made me soso happy! So please keep them coming, I love your feedback!:)**

**Last chapter's question still applies for this one! Thank you, lovelies!**


	5. 5: Stories in the Dark

**Hey guys! So here's Chapter Five and I hope y'all like it! Thank you all for your continued support and reviews, it means so much to me, truly! Y'all are the people who keep me writing this! So please read and review this chapter, and keep being amazing!:)**

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Chapter Five: Stories in the Dark

It was as if the world had turned slow-motion, then someone had pressed the fast-forward button on a remote. Alison's brain barely had time to process what was happening as the creature lunged for her, and as the adrenaline kicked in, she saw it coming at her as if it were moving through syrup.

She could see every one of its fangs as it came nearer, and smelt the hot breath on her face, a horrid mixture of rotten meat and the old coppery smell of blood and decayed flesh. Then, the fast-forward button.

As if on auto-pilot, her brain directed her body where to go, and she ducked at the last second, the creature soaring over her and Hidalgo before coming to a skidding stop on the road before them, cutting off their access.

Hidalgo reared, whinnying in fear, and Alison had to grasp the reins tightly so she wouldn't be thrown from the horse. As Hidalgo put all fours back on the ground, Alison got a glimpse of the creature that had just tried to eat her and felt ice flood her veins.

The thing was monstrous, a mutant cross-breed of a wolf and something ancient, much more sinister. It was bigger than Hidalgo's small pony body by several feet, with thick, coarse fur that was as dark as the shadows itself, slitted yellow eyes agleam with malice, and scars criss-crossing its snarling muzzle as it crouched, ready to spring again.

Staring down the thing in the middle of the road, Alison's survival instincts kicked in, and she slowly began to reach for the knife in her boot. Hidalgo snorted and pawed fearfully at the ground, but Alison kept him in check, at least for now. She never broke eye contact with the wolf-creature; she had read somewhere that breaking eye contact with dogs was considered submissive, and she wanted its eyes on hers while she slid her knife out of its sheath.

She straightened up slowly, the wolf-creature's eyes still boring into her; she didn't know how much longer she could have its attention, but she figured now was the time to act before it came at her again.

She gripped the knife hilt tightly, her heart pounding, and very quickly, flicked her gaze away from the wolf-creature's, just enough to break the dominance stare-down. With a snarl that made her bones vibrate, it bounded forward and lunged once more, achieving an astonishing height for such a large creature.

Almost without thinking, Alison raised her knife-hand and slashed, and she felt the force of the creature's underbelly scraping against the blade, almost ripping it out of her hand as it howled and landed awkwardly on its side. Alison could feel the blood running onto her hand, and her stomach roiled, but she fought it down as she spurred Hidalgo forward, galloping down the road at a speed that surprised her for such a small pony.

Behind her, Alison could hear the creature howling and whining in pain, and she shut off her humanitarian side as she heard it lurch to its feet and chase after them, snarling furiously. _This thing is trying to kill you, do not allow "In the Arms of an Angel" to start playing in your head._

Dark forest surrounded Alison on either side as they ran, and she looked back, seeing the wolf-creature gaining on them. On the open road, there were no obstacles for the thing to dodge, and it was extremely fast. She could see the vicious gleam in its eyes now, and she knew she was going to have to get off the road if she wanted any chance of living to see the dawn.

She jerked sharply on Hidalgo's reins, and they careened into the shadowy trees on the left-hand side of the road. With an irritated growl, the wolf-creature backtracked and hurtled after them, though it had to slow down some to fit its huge body in between the closely-packed trees.

Alison and Hidalgo ran for what seemed like hours, dodging trees and roots wildly as they thundered through the dark and unrelenting forest. Alison's eyes were strained and beginning to hurt as she guided Hidalgo as best she could by the faint moonlight filtering through the tree-tops, trying to avoid sending them sprawling on roots or decapitating herself by a low-hanging branch.

The wolf-creature was still keeping steady pace with them, though, having gotten used to the terrain and obviously bred for perfect night vision and tracking skills, and Alison began to feel fear beneath her adrenaline; Hidalgo couldn't keep up this pace forever, and it seemed like that thing wasn't getting tired. She would have to make a stand.

Suddenly, Hidalgo twisted one of his front legs on a protruding tree root, and the horse stumbled, crying out in pain. Alison, with only one hand on the reins and the other still gripping her knife, rolled painfully out of the saddle and hit the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs. Hidalgo fled into the trees, still crying out, and Alison scrambled to her feet, fighting to breathe, as the wolf-creature leaped in front of her, its lips drawn back in a menacing growl.

This time, there was no hesitation; the wolf-creature lunged, and she was too winded to raise her knife in time. A force that felt like a ton of bricks slammed into her, knocking her flat on the ground again, and the knife skidded out of her reach as the wolf-creature snarled down at her, one fore-paw on her throat and the other on her outstretched arm.

She gagged on its breath as it leaned in to her face, and a rope of slimy drool caressed her cheek, making her want to die just from the disgust of that sensation. Her fingers groped hopelessly for her knife hilt, but all she managed to find were tufts of grass and handfuls of dirt.

Despair welled up in her as she realized she was about to die, but it was immediately oppressed by the red-hot wave of fiery determination that rose up in her; she would not die, not here, not like this, without a weapon and defenseless, awaiting the killing blow that was bound to come any second. She thrust out her hand one more time, and her desperate fingers clasped on a jagged hunk of rock; not her knife, but it would do.

Summoning all of her strength, Alison raised the hand pinned down by the wolf-creature with difficulty, and drove a sharp point of the rock into its paw. It shouldn't have hurt it much, but it distracted it enough to where she could get her wrist free and swing it up, the rock still in hand.

The rock collided with the side of the creature's jaw, and Alison heard a satisfying crunch as the creature staggered back, spitting out several broken fangs and roaring with rage. Alison used her few seconds of distraction time to locate her knife and grab it up, then lurched to her feet and start running as fast as she could.

It was hard work, running for her life while carrying a rock and a knife in both hands, while simultaneously trying not to get eaten and avoid all the roots that threatened to trip her up and offer her as this creature's next meal, but somehow she managed it quite well, only thinking _Got to get away. Got to get away._

The wolf-creature was only a few feet behind her, and Alison decided to make her final stand; if she were to go down, she would go down fighting. All of her fear burned away as she swung around to face the creature, pitching the rock to where it hit its head, but it was like throwing a marshmallow for all the good it did her.

She brandished her knife, backing away from the creature as it slowly advanced on her, as if knowing she was about to die and had all the time in the world to make it happen. She swung the blade threateningly, and if scary giant wolf-creatures could give unimpressed, patronizing looks, she was sure she had just received one.

The rumbling growling had started again, and in a heartbeat, the wolf-creature pounced, pushing off from its haunches and reaching for her throat. Alison screamed, just as a familiar voice behind her yelled "Duck!"

Obeying the order without question, Alison hurled herself backwards, away from the creature's outreaching paws as suddenly an arrow whistled over her and lodged itself firmly in its maw. The creature made a startled sound, then gurgled, falling to the ground before Alison, twitching and bleeding, before it stopped moving and was still.

A ringing sound filled Alison's ears as she stared at the creature, incomprehensive as to what exactly had just happened. Once her brain pieced together that she was seeing the wolf-creature dead before her, though, she crawled as far away from it as she could before her body gave out and she vomited into a cluster of bushes.

Tears and sweat mingled on her face as she sat back up, her back turned away from the dead thing that had so nearly killed her. She gulped in air, adrenaline still coursing through her body, and she was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that there were people behind her.

She clambered to her feet, weak and shaky, and turned, taking care not to look at the thing on the ground. There was the Company behind her, all tense and with weapons drawn, searching the trees around them carefully, wary of another creature lurking in the shadows.

"It's all right," she said, her voice croaking a little bit as it came out. The Company's eyes all swiveled to her, seemingly taking her presence in for the first time. Their eyes were wide and shocked, and she figured how terrifying her arrival must have been for them: crashing through the woods, being chased by a giant wolf-creature with a bloody knife in her hand, when she was supposed to be going in a completely different direction than they were.

At the reminder of the knife, Alison dropped the blade as if it had burned her, refusing to look at it or the blood that was beginning to crust over on her hand. She swayed, her vision going fuzzy, and suddenly someone was there, holding her steady as the world tilted around her.

"Alison, what in Mahal's name are you _doing _here?" She heard Kili's voice as if coming down from a long tunnel, but she realized that he was actually very near, for he was the one steadying her as he looked down at her, his face white with shock. She vaguely noticed the bow and arrows on his back, and instead of answering, she said, "You killed it? You killed the…the…"

"The Warg," he said, his tone still colored with shock. "Yes, I killed it. You're safe now."

"Oh, God," she said, slumping in his arms as all the fight and adrenaline rushed out of her body, making her dizzy and trembling. "Oh my God, what the hell just _happened?"_

"An apt question," Thorin said as he broke away from the group and strode up to her, his expression containing more fury than a thunderstorm. "I would very much like to know why you are here, Miss Ashburne, and please know that I have no mercy on liars and deceivers, woman or not."

"Uncle, please—" Kili said, but Thorin held up a hand, silencing him.

"Speak," Thorin barked. "You were supposed to be making for Isengard, yet now you show up again, trailing a Warg behind you. I want to know what exactly in Durin's name you are doing here."

Alison pushed herself up from Kili's supporting grip as all the dwarves watched anxiously and suspiciously; her dizziness was fading, and all she wanted to do now was sleep, her body and mind too exhausted for anything else.

"What is this? What is this?" Gandalf said, pushing his way to the front of the throng, staff in hand. Alison wasn't all that surprised to see Bilbo trailing behind the Wizard, his eyes gleaming warily at the surrounding trees. Gandalf stopped in his tracks, his eyes taking in the dead Warg and Alison's unexpected arrival easily, as if he had suspected it all along.

"You knew," she said, pointing accusingly at the Wizard. "You knew I would come back, that I would rejoin the Company, didn't you?"

"I was ninety percent sure, my dear girl," the Wizard said unabashedly. "The Valar brought you here for a specific reason, and I knew that even if you chose your own path, fate would somehow lead you back to here. It seems you are destined to come with us."

"Destined?" Thorin repeated, and his snarl was almost worse than the wolf-creature's. "She is not destined for any part in this quest. I have already allowed you to bring Mr. Baggins along, but I will not allow this, Gandalf. This woman is not coming with us, even if the Valar themselves came down and begged me to take her."

"And why not?" Gandalf challenged. "You would defy the very decree of the Valar, you would ignore the ancient rites of the Ashburne line, all because she is a woman? Need I remind you, Thorin Oakenshield, that Alison is not the first female Ashburne to cross into our world and offer her assistance. I believe that she is as capable as her ancestors in this matter."

"They had training," Thorin shot back. "It is obvious that she does not; it's barely been a day since we left Hobbiton and she has already gotten attacked—and by a Warg, at the very least."

Alison was annoyed that the dwarf king and the Wizard were speaking about her as if she wasn't there, but she let them continue, still too shaken to join in the argument yet.

"With training, though, Alison could be a very useful asset; have you even bothered to look at the Warg's injuries?" Gandalf said heatedly. "Broken teeth, a slash on the creature's underbelly, and Alison's knife, so obviously covered in blood? She is descended from Eleon Ashburne. Even though she may not have had training, the same warrior blood runs in her veins, the same instincts. Those instincts kept Miss Ashburne alive tonight, and I believe that with the proper training, she would make a formidable weapon."

"Women are not warriors or weapons," Thorin argued. "They should know how to fight and fend for themselves, but I will not let one join a quest willingly, where there is no guarantee of her survival."

"That's not your decision to make," Alison broke in, figuring it was time to take control of the situation. "Look, the Valar called on me to help you. I know you don't like it, but that was their choice, not yours. I'm not even entirely sure if I want to be here yet, on this quest; I had a normal life in the mortal world, and don't think you're the only one who knows I could die on this quest. I know that, too, but I'm willing to risk my life to be here. The Valar tasked me to help you, and I came back because I don't leave people behind, strangers or not. If I can help, then I will stay. Train me if you want, teach me how to fight on the road. But I'm not leaving again. The Valar chose me for this, and as weird and stupid and superstitious as this sounds, I know this is my destiny. I was fated to aid you on this quest, and you can be grumpy and brooding about it all you want, but face it: you're stuck with me now."

Silence filled the forest, and Alison watched Thorin's face shift and contort in the shadows of the moonlight, seemingly waging an internal battle with himself. Alison met Gandalf's eyes in the gloom, and she caught the barest trace of a wink before he looked back to the struggling dwarf king. The rest of the Company and Bilbo stood around, not knowing what to do as Thorin finally came to a decision.

"Miss Ashburne, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, and Gandalf, you will remain here with me," he ground out, as if every word caused him pain, and Alison felt her heart leap. "Bifur, Bofur, Glóin, and Nori, scan the perimeter, make sure no more of those foul beasts are nearby. The rest of you go back to camp. Bombur, prepare the food. We'll be there shortly."

The Company all nodded and dispersed, going to their separate tasks under Thorin's orders. Soon Alison was left alone with the Wizard, the line of Durin, and Dwalin.

"Do not think you are special because I have allowed you to stay, Miss Ashburne," Thorin said coldly, his eyes like chips of ice in the faint moonlight. "You will be treated the same as the rest of the Company, and you will treat them with the same respect and helpfulness in return. You will also refrain from going against my orders or arguing with my decisions. You have no higher privilege or status than the rest of us, and you are to note that your life is entirely in your own hands if you wish to be a part of this quest. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," she said, trying not to let Thorin's attitude get to her. She was going on the quest! A part of her sang. She was a part of the Company!

"Fili, Kili, and Dwalin will rotate turns overseeing your training," he continued, and Fili and Kili nodded enthusiastically at the mention, while Dwalin looked disgruntled, but he didn't object. "And now that we have that established, you will tell me everything that has happened to you and how you came to be this Warg's prey."

So Alison began, telling them of how she had been riding on the North-South Road for that day, but she had changed her mind and rode back to rejoin their quest, taking care not to mention the specific reason she had turned back. Once she had made it onto the Great East Road, the Warg had attacked her, and she told of the wild chase through the forest, and how her horse had twisted a leg and bucked her off. Her voice trembled a little as she went on, the events still so fresh and horrid in her mind: how the Warg had knocked the knife out of her hand, and how she had grabbed the rock and hit it and started running. "Then the rest you know already, since you were kind of there for it," she finished anticlimactically. The dwarves had begun to circle around the Warg as she told her story, examining its wounds and communicating in low voices to each other.

"And what of the knife?" Thorin asked, picking up the blood-stained blade and examining it closely. "Did you inflict this wound on the creature?" He gestured to the large gash on the Warg's stomach, its fur clotted with dried blood from the wound.

Alison nodded. "On the Road, the second time it leaped for me, I just kind of swung, and…" she shuddered, remembering the scraping feeling and the drag on her hand as she had slashed the Warg open, its hot blood running down her wrist…

"You are very fortunate to have escaped, Miss Ashburne," Thorin said. "But there is still one more problem: what was a Warg doing so close to the borders of Hobbiton, hunting through broad daylight, and especially one with the audacity to attack a traveler, with no rider or companions?" He shook his head. "It makes no sense."

"Maybe it was just a wild one?" She said uncertainly, knowing that it probably wasn't true. She knew Wargs were associated with Orcs, and she had a bad feeling that this wasn't just a random attack on a lone traveler. Someone knew about her arrival. And someone possibly wanted her dead.

"Perhaps," Thorin said, though she could tell he wasn't convinced either as he met her eyes, and she knew him to be thinking the same thing she was. Suddenly there was a rustle in the bushes somewhere to their left, and the group swung around, the others readying their weapons as Alison backed up behind them, her knife still in Thorin's hand, leaving her weaponless. But it was just the search party, coming back from sweeping the perimeter.

"We didn't see any more of them," Nori announced as they stepped out of the bushes. "I think there was only that one."

"But we found this," Bofur said, holding up Alison's backpack. She felt a rush of relief; it must've come off when she fell off Hidalgo, but it was found again, looking quite unscathed.

"That's mine!" She said happily, stepping forward and taking the pack from his outstretched hand. She looked through it, and found to her intense surprise that she still had most of her supplies. Of course, most of her food and her bedroll and things had run off with Hidalgo, but she was happy enough with the supplies she still had.

"We'll leave the body until dawn," Thorin said, sweeping past them as he made his way back to the camp. "Now, come on, we need to eat and get some rest. We set out at first light."

Gandalf and the dwarves fell into step behind him, trekking through the undergrowth towards a dimly glowing light between the trees Alison hadn't noticed until then. Before following, she paused and looked back at the Warg, her mind still spinning.

The whole experience had been like a living nightmare, but she was alive. She was alive. She had to repeat this to herself several times over in her head before she accepted it. She had survived a Warg attack in one piece.

Huh. Maybe she did have some warrior blood, after all.

"Alison, are you coming?" Fili said, and she turned. The fair-haired Dwarf stood between two trees a few feet from where she was, still looking at the dead Warg. It was strange; a few minutes ago she had been puking her guts out over the sight of the dead thing, but now she felt nothing. No hint of remorse or disgust; nothing.

"Yeah," she said, stepping over roots as she went over to him.

"Do you want to clean that up?" He asked, pointing to her right hand, which was sticky and crusty from the dried Warg blood.

"That'd probably be a good idea," she said, as they turned and made their way after the others.

"So," Fili said wryly as they approached the campsite. "My excellent knife-wielding advice proved to be resourceful after all, eh?" He quirked a grin at her, and Alison smiled back, the remaining strands of tension that had been left in her body dissolving as she met his eyes, a pretty silver-blue in the pale moonlight.

"'Just swing and slash until you hit something?'" She said, cocking an eyebrow. "That's some pretty straight-forward advice. It's not that hard to remember."

He chuckled as they reached the campsite, but before he could enter she stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand, then to her face, startled at her sudden touch. "But it was appreciated, nonetheless," she said quietly, so the others at the camp couldn't hear. "If you hadn't given me that knife before I left…" she trailed off, shivering at the unfinished thought.

"Don't mention it," he said in an equally soft voice. "It would have put a kink in the Valar's plans if you had died. And for what it's worth, I'm glad that knife was able to protect you."

She nodded and removed her hand from his arm. "Ugh, we really need to clean this," she said as they walked together into the campsite, examining her blood-encrusted hand. "This is disgusting."

"Wait here," he instructed, and he darted around the large campfire in the center of the clearing they had entered, retrieving a water-skin from what was presumably his bedroll on the far side of the open space.

Alison stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. Thorin, Gandalf, Balin and Dwalin were standing in a huddled group together in a shadowy copse of trees on the edge of the clearing, apparently in deep discussion, while all the dwarves were seated together in a circle on the other side of the campfire, talking and laughing raucously as Bombur passed around wooden bowls and spoons to everybody, the bowls filled with what she assumed was stew. Bilbo looked oddly out of place amongst the group, but didn't seem all that uncomfortable. He just looked wistful, as if he were thinking of his cozy home in Bag-End.

"Alison!" Kili's voice called, and she saw him waving to her from the group. "Come get some supper!"

"Be right there!" She called back, just as Fili rejoined her with his water-skin and a rag in his hands.

"Here," he said, pouring some of the water onto her hand. She accepted the rag gratefully and began to scrub away at the blood, the reddish-brown gunk peeling satisfyingly off of her hand and wrist as she scrubbed vigorously. "Try not to take your skin off," he said jokingly, as the tanned skin on her hand took on a pink tinge from scrubbing so hard.

"Have you ever tried to get blood off of your hands?" she asked, as the last traces of blood began to fade. The cuff of her jacket was stained, but she didn't mind all that much; the material was dark anyway, so it would be difficult to see the stain.

"I've done my fair share," he answered, and she froze.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh, no," he said, waving off her apology. "I haven't really experienced _that _kind of fighting yet. I was mostly talking about hunting. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Oh," she said quietly; her mind had registered the word _yet, _and she felt like she was drowning as she handed the rag back to him, knowing what would await him at the end of this journey and feeling sick again. But that same fiery determination rose up inside her once more, and she thought, _I will save them all. I will._

"Let's go get some food," he urged, not noticing how still her body had gone and the sudden determined clench of her jaw.

She trailed after him as they joined the group, and he promptly squished in between Bofur and Óin, while Bombur passed him a bowl of stew. Alison hesitated, unsure of where to sit, but that problem was solved quickly enough when Bofur grabbed her hand and promptly dragged her down to his other side with such enthusiasm her butt slammed uncomfortably into the ground, and she winced slightly.

"Welcome back to the Company!" he said cheerily, and Alison smiled; Bofur's bright and cheery attitude was infectious, and it was impossible to not smile when in his presence. Alison found it surprising that she had taken to Bofur so quickly. She only had a close-knit group of friends back home, and she rarely ever talked to other people besides them, comfortable with her small clique. But that was the power of Bofur; he made her feel like she belonged, even when all she wanted to do was be by herself and not draw attention.

"I'm glad to be back," she replied, as Bombur waddled over and pressed a bowl of stew in her hands. "Thank you." She said to the great ginger Dwarf. He blushed and didn't say anything, just gave her a quick nod and rushed back to his spot.

"He doesn't like me," she said, her grin fading a bit at the Dwarf's reaction.

"What, Bombur?" Bofur said. "Oh, lass, there's nothing to worry about with him. He's just shy, is all. He likes you, he's just too nervous to say anything to you."

"Him? Nervous because of me?" she echoed incredulously. "Why?"

"Hmm, let's see," Bofur said around a mouthful of stew. Alison spooned a bite into her own mouth, and immediately the delicious flavors flooded her taste buds, warming her up from the inside out and settling comfortably in her empty belly. She began to shovel heaping spoonfuls in her mouth as Bofur went on. "I mean, it couldn't possibly be from the fact that firstly, you're human, and a female one at that. Secondly, you were summoned by the Valar from another world. And, thirdly, you know, there's that whole thing with you being descended from a Hero…"

"All right," she conceded. "But I still don't see how I'm that intimidating. According to Thorin a gust of wind would do me in."

"You're being modest," Bofur said, wagging his spoon at her. "You knocked out several Warg teeth with a rock, not to mention stabbed it, and managed to get away practically unscathed. That's a bit intimidating."

Alison was spared trying to answer to that when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she looked to her other side, where Bifur was seated beside her. The wild-looking Dwarf made a series of hand gestures to her, grunting incoherently, and Alison sat blankly, trying to decipher what he was trying to sign to her, but the gestures made no sense to her. She knew that there was something wrong with Bifur's speech capabilities, probably stemming from the hatchet blade stuck in his head, but the Dwarf was still trying to communicate with her. She felt a sympathetic twinge in her heart as she realized she didn't know _what _he was trying to communicate to her.

She set down her bowl on the ground before her and shifted to face Bifur, tapping Bofur on the shoulder as she did so. "Help me with your cousin," she said quietly to him, remembering that despite their similar names, Bombur was Bofur's younger brother and Bifur was just his cousin.

Alison turned back to face Bifur, and the Dwarf watched her carefully with his beetle-black eyes, and she recognized the faint crease of frustration between his busy black eyebrows, because she did the same thing whenever she was frustrated. "Can you sign to me again?" she asked kindly, and he nodded, doing the hand gestures to her again.

She studied the movements carefully, picking up on a closed fist, opening up into a cupped palm, and then his right forefinger flicking out quickly before his hands became fists again. "He's using the Iglishmêk," Bofur said, sounding a bit apprehensive. "It's the gesture language of the Dwarves. It's mainly used for communication within the mines and forges, where they can't hear each other, but Bifur uses it along with our spoken language, the Khuzdûl. He's only ever been able to speak like that since his, you know, incident."

Alison nodded, attempting to recreate the gestures on her own hands as Bifur watched her patiently, going back over the parts she stumbled on. She felt Bofur's tension at her back as she clumsily redid the gestures. "Let me guess," she said without turning around. "I'm not supposed to be doing this?"

"Well…no," he admitted. "Our languages are supposed to be secret, never used by or to an outsider of our race, but…"

She stopped suddenly at Bofur's words, realizing how incredibly rude and imposing she must seem by trying to learn the secret Iglishmêk. "But?" she prompted, clasping her hands in her lap embarrassedly.

"He's asking if you're all right," Bofur said resignedly, and Alison suddenly wished that she had taken sign language in school instead of Spanish so she could still communicate in gestures to Bifur without intruding on their secret language.

Alison smiled at the fierce Dwarf as his eyes watched her. "Yes, Bifur, I'm fine," she said kindly. "Thank you for asking. And how are you?"

Bifur smiled under his tangled beard and gesticulated rapidly, his left hand curled into a loose fist and flipping his right hand upside down, splaying his fingers out. "That means he is well," Bofur said, and Alison smiled again.

"That's great, Bifur!" she said, and the Dwarf smiled again, his black eyes crinkling in the corners. Alison suddenly became aware of how quiet the campsite was, and she looked away from Bifur to the others. The dwarves and Bilbo were all looking at her with unreadable expressions, and, much to her nervousness, she saw that the group who had been standing on the other side of the clearing talking earlier had wandered back over, and were staring at her, too.

"Um, sorry," she said meekly. "I didn't mean to impose on your, um…it won't happen again." Her eyes sought Thorin's, but he didn't look angry, just…thoughtful.

"We've found another bedroll and blanket for you to sleep with," he said, ignoring her apology, and Alison felt herself relax. Apparently Thorin's voice had broken the silent spell over the others, and they went back to their eating and conversations.

Alison nodded at the dwarf king as Bombur ladled him a bowl of stew and handed it to him. "Thanks," she said, and he inclined his head slightly to her as he sat down between Balin and Bilbo.

"Excuse me, Miss Ashburne?" A soft voice said from across the circle, and she looked to find Ori speaking to her. The younger Dwarf was staring avidly at her with his gentle cow-eyes, and his cheeks turned a faint pink as she smiled at him. "Yes, Ori?"

"Would you…would you mind telling us about your world?" He looked down at the leather-bound journal in his hands as he asked, and Alison thought that if Dwarves could be adorable, then Ori was definitely the winner.

"What do you want to know?" she asked.

"Well, what does it look like?"

"Um…well, it's big," she said, aware that everyone's eyes were upon her again. She paused, uncertain of what to say, but Ori looked at her with such expectation she just decided to go for it.

"It's very big," she went on, playing with a tuft of grass before her. "Seventy percent of it is water, like huge, expansive bodies of water, called oceans or seas."

"Have you ever been to the sea?" He asked, scribbling excitedly in his journal.

"Once," she said, dredging up childhood memories from the back corners of her mind. "My family and I went there when I was eight, just before my brother and sister were born. It was really hot." She tried to recall that summer. "And the beach was so long, this huge strip of golden sand that went out right to the edge of the water. The ocean was massive, stretching out as far as the eye could see in both directions, and meeting the sky far out on the horizon, where it looked like the sun was sinking beneath the waves as it set."

The whole circle was enraptured as she went on, her confidence bolstering as she continued describing her world, feeling a stab of homesickness as she did.

"Do you live near the beach?" Ori asked, looking up from his furious scrawling.

"No, I live in a place called West, Texas," she said. "It's a small town, located in the middle of nowhere, basically. It's hundreds of miles away from the beach I went to, with nothing but empty farmland and a town square…and that's about it for miles around us."

"You journeyed hundreds of miles to the sea when you were only eight?" Nori broke in, sounding mildly impressed. Alison laughed, remembering that this was Middle-earth and they didn't have cars.

"Oh, no," she said. "We don't think of that distance the same as you do here. My world is really advanced, and we have things called cars that transport us to places. They're like…mechanical carriages, I guess, but they have this thing called an engine in it that makes it run instead of being pulled by horses…"

The group seemed very skeptical of this concept, and it took half an hour for Alison to attempt to describe the concept of a vehicle to them, which was extremely difficult considering she wasn't a car enthusiast or anything. She never realized how unknowing she was of the technology in her world until she was trying to describe it to the dwarves and Bilbo, so used to the presence of it that she never really questioned how it all worked until now.

Once the struggle of that task was over, she was ready for a topic change as the dwarves finally dropped it, still disbelieving at the concept of technology and electricity and everything else she had been forced to describe. Gandalf watched on with mild amusement; he must've thought it funny to see her floundering around like that, drowning in the dwarves' numerous questions she didn't really know the answers to.

"You said at first you didn't want to come on this quest because you would be abandoning your family," Kili said suddenly, and Alison met his dark eyes apprehensively. "Would you tell us about them? Your family?"

There was a long pause in which Alison debated in sharing about her family. She was homesick enough just talking about her world, and she was afraid she would be reduced to tears if she talked about her family. But instead she nodded.

"My mom's name is Emily," she said, not really knowing where to start. "I look a lot like her, except I got my eyes from my dad. She's…strong, and kind, though she can be kind of strict." She remembered her act of rebellion all those months ago, when she had tried to sneak out of her house and was grounded from her car after her mom caught her. "But she's really supportive, and she loves my siblings and me a lot." She paused, trying to swallow the sudden lump from her throat.

"I have a younger brother and sister, named Katie and Jace. They're fraternal twins, and they're honestly the most annoying life-forms on the face of the Earth when they're together. I still love them, though," she added at the shocked expressions on their faces. "They're just…young and reckless, that's all."

"And what about your father?" Ori asked, and Alison felt her heart twinge, not really wanting to get into that story.

"He passed away when I was twelve," was all she said, and Ori immediately blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Apologies, Miss Ashburne. I—I didn't mean…"

"Don't worry about it," she said, forcing a smile. "And, seriously, call me Alison. 'Miss Ashburne' is too formal." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

There were several minutes of silence, until Thorin announced it was time for them to get to sleep and appointing Glóin to the first watch of the night.

The Company all got to their feet, clearing away their bowls and stamping out the fire until it was a dull red glow. Alison stood up with them, stretching out the cramps in her legs from sitting for so long and busying herself by rinsing out her bowl with some water Bombur provided from his water-skin.

Once she had finished with her task, she felt a light tap on her arm and found Fili standing behind her. "Come on, your over by me," he said, and Alison followed him to the other side of the clearing. Her new bedroll was between Fili's on one side and Óin's on the other; they weren't super close to the point of awkward, but Alison still felt some trepidation of sleeping next to a bunch of men, Dwarves or not.

She plopped herself down next to Fili and removed her boots and jacket, then lay down on the bedroll, gazing up at the treetops, where the glimmer of the stars were just discernible through the foliage. All the stories of her family and her own world had caused an ache in her chest, and even though she had made her decision to stay and help the Company, she still missed her family deeply.

To her left, Óin was already snoring, and she wondered how the Dwarf could possibly fall asleep that fast as she heard Fili settle down on her right. Soon the whole campsite was asleep, their heavy breathing and snores overshadowing the rustle of undergrowth and the quiet patter of animals in the shadows. Alison rolled over on her side to settle into a more comfortable position when she noticed Fili's eyes shining in the gloom, gazing up at the stars as she had been doing a moment ago.

Feeling her eyes on him, he turned his head and met her gaze. Alison was glad of the cover of darkness, because she was probably blushing as she realized how creepy she was being staring at him.

"Can't fall asleep easily, either, huh?" he asked softly, and she shook her head.

"I don't know how they do it," she replied just as quietly. "It's like my mind wakes up as soon as I lie down."

"I know that feeling," he said, his lips curling into a half-smile, and Alison found herself staring at his face again, washed in the pale glow from the moonlight. She flicked her gaze away quickly, and they lay in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said, and Alison met his eyes again. They were as unreadable as Thorin's as she shrugged.

"Don't be," she said. "It was a few years ago now, and I try not to let it weigh me down anymore. You just have to keep moving forward."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I understand what you mean. Kili and I lost our father, as well. Of course, Kili never knew him, for he died in a mining accident before he was born, but I remember him. It was hard, not having a father, but our mother is a strong woman, like you said yours was, and she raised us well. Along with some help from Uncle Thorin."

He grinned to himself, and Alison had to try and wrap her head around thoughts of Thorin being all caring and familial for a second, wondering if that was even possible for the scowling, broody dwarf king.

"Try to sleep, Alison," he whispered, and she nodded, already feeling her eyelids droop. The last thing she saw before she slipped under the comforting wing of sleep was Fili's face, his face ethereal and pale in the moonlight and his eyes alight as he gazed back up to the stars.

* * *

**Wow, look, an ending to a chapter that's not really a cliffhanger! So in this chapter I just kind of wanted to get Alison acquainted with the Company that way it's just easier going in the story in her interactions and everything with the Company. But next chapter we'll get the journey going again! **

**Speaking of next chapter, I'm probably going to start incorporating other Company members' points of view, too, so I can expand the scope and move the pace a bit faster, so heads up for that.**

**Again, thank you for your reviews and keep them coming! Feedback is what keeps me updating for y'all! And I don't really have a question for this chapter, so instead I just have a message: Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas! I don't know if I'll update on Tuesday or Thursday yet because of Christmas Eve and Day, but we'll see! Have a safe and happy Christmas, my lovely readers:)**


	6. 6: The Tale of the King

**Hey guys! So I decided to post this chapter early (which really shouldn't surprise anyone. I always tell myself I'll wait and then I don't) but then I will have to leave you until Thursday *tear* (Jk. We'll see how well I stick to that). Sooo more POV, anyone? Cuz I got them here. And they will continue.**

**Again, thank you to all of my reviewers and readers, y'all are the best! Keep it coming I love hearing from y'all!:)**

* * *

Chapter Six: The Tale of the King

Alison awoke to pale dawn light streaming through the high tree branches of the clearing, creating dancing patterns of light on the ground every time the leaves rustled from a breeze.

She sat up groggily, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes as she looked around. To her confusion, the campsite was mostly empty. The only people that remained were her, the still-sleeping Bilbo, Gandalf, who stood alone at the edge of the clearing, smoking from his pipe, Dori, who was tossing away pieces of firewood and getting rid of any signs they had camped there, and Fili, who was rolling up his bedroll beside her.

"Ah, good, I was just about to wake you," he said, finishing his task and getting to his feet, swinging the bedroll over his shoulder.

"Where is everybody?" she asked, stifling a yawn and rolling back her shoulders; despite the bedroll, the ground had still been hard and uncomfortable, and she thought longingly of her bed back home.

"Thorin, Kili, Dwalin and Bifur went to bury the Warg," he replied, and she felt a shiver run down her spine at the reminder of last night's events. "Everyone else is packing up and readying the ponies."

She nodded, running a hand over her mussed up hair, and then quickly stopped, disgusted by the dirt and oil she felt under her palm. With another bout of longing, she wished for her shower, or at least something of importance, like a toothbrush or deodorant; anything, really, besides chapstick.

"Do me a favor, and wake up Bilbo?" he asked, nodding his head at the sleeping Hobbit. "I'm going to help out the lads with the supplies. I can get your things, too, if you'd like."

"I can get it, don't worry," she said, remembering Thorin's words of pulling her own weight in the Company last night, and she wondered how well that would go over if he saw his nephew taking care of her after his warning.

Fili nodded and left the clearing, heading into the trees to where she presumed the ponies and most of the Company were. Dori, who had finished his task of making it look like no one had been there, followed after him, leaving just her, Bilbo, and Gandalf in the clearing.

Alison clambered to her feet, pulling back on her jacket and boots, when she realized her knife sheath was empty. Thorin most likely still had it, and she reminded herself to ask him for it back next time she saw him. She quickly redid her hair, fervently thinking of how much she wanted a hairbrush, and then folded up her blanket and bedroll, slinging it over her shoulder as she went to wake Bilbo.

She hesitated when she reached the Hobbit, unsure of what to do. She didn't want to kick him or prod him with her foot; that'd be too harsh, but she didn't want to get all creepy and stroke his shoulder or whatever until he woke, either. Biting her lip, she bent down and gently shook his arm. "Bilbo," she whispered, and when the Hobbit only grunted in reply, she shook him more insistently, raising her voice slightly. "Bilbo, c'mon, time to get up. We're clearing out."

The Hobbit opened his eyes and sat up, disoriented from sleep still. "Good morning," he mumbled, and Alison grinned, thinking of the first time she had met the Hobbit; those had been his first words to her back then, as well. Had that only been yesterday morning?

"Come on, we're about to leave," she said, straightening up and holding out her hand. Bilbo took it, heaving himself to his feet as he blinked away the last traces of sleep. Alison stood with the Hobbit for a moment, realizing that despite being in his home and sleeping in his guest bedroom, she hadn't really spoken to him one-on-one before.

"So…" she said casually, hoisting her bedroll higher onto her shoulder. "I see you decided to come on the quest, after all."

"So I did," he said, beginning to fold up his own bedroll as well. "And it seems you did, too."

"Yep," she agreed. There was a moment of silence in which Bilbo finished rolling his bedroll and shouldered it much the same way she was doing. "May I inquire what made you decide to come?"

"To be honest, I can't really say," the Hobbit said. He looked up into her face, being a few inches shorter than her, and met her eyes. "Perhaps the idea of adventure took hold of me, perhaps it was something else. I don't really know." She nodded thoughtfully. "And what about you?" he asked. "I thought you were going to Isengard to be sent back home. What made you change your mind?"

"You know, I can't really say, either," she answered, figuring it best if she kept her knowledge of the future—however scattered and hazy it was—between her and Gandalf. "I guess for the same reason as you, sort of. Adventure." She paused, then grinned at the Hobbit. "I have an idea; how about as soon as we figure out what made us decide to come on this insane quest, we'll come to each other, and we'll tell each other our reasons, all right?"

"Fair enough," Bilbo said, smiling back at her.

"Excellent," she said. "Now we should go pack up our things. I expect everyone'll be ready soon."

He nodded in agreement, leading the way out of the clearing. Alison made to follow him, but stopped when she saw Gandalf, still on the edge of the clearing, his back turned towards her. She thought of going over and speaking to him, but decided against it; he probably didn't want to be disturbed, and she couldn't really think of anything to say to him at that moment, either. So she hoisted her bedroll higher on her shoulder and followed Bilbo out of the clearing.

A few yards into the tree-line, Alison began to hear the murmur of voices, and another few seconds of walking revealed the Company, all milling about and talking, apparently having finished their task of loading the ponies.

As Alison approached Bofur, Bombur, and Óin to say good morning, a sudden thought struck her, and she felt a wave of sadness wash over her. In the aftermath of last night's events, she had completely forgotten about Hidalgo and his injury. She hoped he was okay, enjoying the Wild again, or, if the worst had happened, then hoping that his passing on was quick and painless.

"What's got you so down, lass?" Bofur said as she neared.

"My horse," she said. "Hidalgo. He twisted his leg and ran off last night, and I was wondering…" she trailed off, not wanting to say it. In their brief companionship, Alison had grown to like Hidalgo. He had obeyed her every command without question, and he had been a solid and comforting presence when she had been alone on the Road.

"Ah," Bofur said understandingly. "Well, what belongs to the Wild will always return to the Wild. Just keep that in mind. On the bright side, we have another pony for you to ride. C'mon, I'll introduce you."

He led her away from Bombur and Óin, and she waved at the two before falling into step behind Bofur. He came to a stop before a shaggy, light-brown pony laden with supplies, and Alison approached the horse, repeating the same gestures she had done to Hidalgo yesterday to earn the pony's trust.

"He's beautiful," she cooed, rubbing the pony's face as it snorted in pleasure.

"Actually, 'he' is a 'she'," he said wryly. "But yes, she is. I'm afraid you'll have to share her with some of our supplies, though. Now that we don't have…Hidalgo?" the pronunciation sounded weird on his tongue, but Alison nodded encouragingly. "Then that leaves us with two supply ponies, but you're small enough to where it won't be a burden for her."

"Good to know I'm not a burden, then," she said sarcastically, and the Dwarf nodded, apparently not picking up on her tone.

Just then, Thorin, Dwalin, Bifur, and Kili appeared out of the trees, closely followed by Gandalf. "Everyone on their pony," Thorin commanded. "We're leaving now."

Alison untied her horse from the tree it was kept at, and when she turned back around she found Thorin standing behind her.

"Thorin," she greeted politely, giving him a respectful nod as she looped the rope around the pony's saddle so it wouldn't be in the way as she rode.

"Miss Ashburne," he said back, just as tonelessly polite. "I believe this is yours." He held out her knife to her, hilt-first, and Alison took it from his hand, the simple grip already familiar to her fingers.

"You cleaned it," she said in surprise, examining the blade, which shone clearly under the dawn light, all traces of the Warg blood gone.

"Aye," he said. "It is always good to have a clean blade."

"Thank you," she replied, carefully putting the knife back into her boot-sheath.

"Your training will begin this evening," he said, accepting her thanks with only a slight nod. "Kili will take your first rotation."

"Okay, cool. Thanks." Thorin looked at her strangely for a moment, and she remembered that they were in Middle-earth and they didn't use the words "okay" and "cool", let alone knew what they meant. He got the idea, though, and nodded again, moving back to his horse and swinging himself into the saddle.

Alison climbed into her own saddle, making a mental note not to speak like that around the Company before she was bombarded with questions and forced to trace back roots of words in her language or something since they were unfamiliar with her terms.

Once the Company were all seated on their horses and ready to go, Thorin ordered them to move out, and they began the slow and arduous trek through the trees. They cleared the thick tree-line by late morning, and came out on the Road, which had taken a turn into the forest somewhere far behind them, so now they were riding under taller, more spaced-out trees, and with a path to follow. Thorin set a brisk walking pace for them, and the farther on they went, the closer the trees got again, and the terrain more wild, the Road becoming steeper and narrower.

The Company was quiet for some time, partly from the remaining strands of sleep that tugged at them and partly from the wariness of being followed. The Warg attack on Alison the night before had put all of them on guard, and Alison herself felt as if she were being watched, turning her head sharply every time she heard a twig snap or the leaves rustle in the summer air, sure something was hiding in the forest around them.

The tenth time or so she did this, Kili slowed down his pony's pace until he was level with her as she scanned the trees, sure she could see the gleam of eyes in a patch of undergrowth before they disappeared.

"Searching for the flesh-eating bunny rabbit, are we?" he asked, and Alison shot him a look.

"Very funny," she said dryly. "But the bunny rabbit isn't my concern. I feel like we're being watched."

"It's a forest," he pointed out. "Creatures live here. They're all watching us."

"That's not what I mean," she said, shaking her head. "That Warg thing…it doesn't make sense, and I have a feeling that that wasn't a chance coincidence. There's something more to this."

"I agree," he said, and Alison met his dark eyes. They gleamed mischievously in the sunlight, but she could sense a layer of seriousness under the mischief, as well. "I don't like it anymore than you do, but being paranoid every waking hour of the day isn't going to help you. Just…relax a bit, but don't let your guard down completely. Find the balance between the two."

"Balance. Right, I can do that," she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling it. "I can definitely do that."

"See?" he said, grinning. "Better already."

Alison flashed him a quick smile in return. "So I heard you're training me tonight."

"Indeed I am."

"Can I ask what you'll be training me on?"

"Archery," he replied, gesturing to the bow on his back. "You look like an archer, and, well, no offense, but I don't think you're strong enough to actually lift one of our swords. But that doesn't mean we won't try to train you to use one," he added quickly at the scowl on Alison's face.

"Good," she said, instantly brightening again. "I look forward to it."

Kili stayed by her side the rest of the day, entertaining her with stories from his childhood and merchant-escorting days, which he had done before coming on the quest. Most of his stories involved Fili in one way or another, whether his older brother was his accomplice or his target, and Alison glanced back at one point, her eyes seeking the blonde Dwarf, who was guarding the rear. He met her gaze and waved from his spot in the back, and she smiled, waving back before Kili snatched her attention again with a tale of how he and Fili had broken a door in one of their childhood wrestling matches.

When the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, Thorin called for them to stop and make camp for the night under a large outcropping of rock near the huge ravine it had taken them most of the day to climb down and get to the other side.

After the horses had been tied up and the softest patches of ground for sleeping had been squabbled over, Alison wolfed down her dinner of ham, cheese, and bread provided by Bombur, who was obviously the cook of the Company, and got to her feet, ready to go.

"Give me a minute," Kili said as she stood by him, tapping her foot impatiently. "Not all of us have the excessively fast eating capabilities you seem to possess."

"I'm a growing girl," she retorted. "I need food, and a lot of it if I want to 'be healthy'". She made quotation marks in the air with her fingers as everyone looked to her in surprise.

"What do you mean, 'growing'?" Dori asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Aren't you done growing? I think you've reached your prime age, lass."

"What are you talking about? I'm only seventeen. I still have like, five more years to grow." At this, Dori began to choke on the piece of bread he was chewing, and Bifur had to slap him on the back until his airway cleared. "What?" she demanded, gazing around at the circle, who were all staring back with mingled expressions of horror and awe.

"But you're a wee lass!" Bofur said in shock. "We thought—we thought you were a mature adult!"

"I will be in November," she replied, wondering why everyone was looking at her like she had just announced she wanted total world domination. "What's wrong with you all?"

"You are forgetting, Master Dwarves, that Men age differently than your kind," Gandalf piped up from behind her, and Alison turned to see the Wizard watching her and the Company amusedly. She was faintly surprised to hear his voice; he had rarely spoken all day. "Especially in Miss Ashburne's world. Men are considered adults by the age of eighteen in the mortal world, yet do not stop maturing until a few years after that time. Now, to Dwarves, she may seem like a child, but in her world, Miss Ashburne is very nearly matured."

She nodded, noticing with relief that while the Dwarves still looked taken aback by her age, they trusted Gandalf's words and didn't push the subject further.

Finally, Kili stood up, shoving a last piece of ham in his mouth before grabbing his bow and quiver and gesturing for Alison to follow him. Feeling a thrill of excitement, and some apprehension, she hurried after him into a small copse of trees on the outskirts of their camp.

"All right, so what I want you to do first is watch me closely," he said, swallowing the last of his ham, and Alison nodded. "I want you to note my stance, and my movements when I shoot, then we'll let you try."

"Got it," she said, focusing her eyes intently on him as he stood, feet spread about shoulder-length apart. He held the bow almost loosely in his hands, as if it were a natural extension of his body, his eyes targeted on a tree about ten feet away from him. Alison watched his fluent movements in fascination as he brought back his right arm, removing an arrow from his quiver and fitting it to the bow string with ease. Then he drew back his arm, raising the bow, until his hand was aligned with his eye and the arrow was primed, and the bow string taut. Kili released the arrow, and it flew straight and true, burrowing itself into the center of the tree.

"See how I did that?" he said, turning to face her and holding out his bow.

"I think that was more of you showing off than instructing," she joked, approaching him and reaching for the bow.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, holding the bow away from her as she made to take it and wagging his finger disapprovingly. "Anymore comments like that, Alison, and we can go straight back to camp."

She mock bowed. "Whatever you say, Master. I am but only your humble Padawan."

"My what?" he said in confusion, and Alison used her moment of distraction to make a grab for the bow, but he was too quick for her. He leaped aside and Alison almost tumbled face-first into the ground as her momentum carried her too far forward, but she steadied herself at the last second.

"Nothing," she said, trying to play off her near-fall coolly, despite the fact that her face was burning. "Just a story from my world."

"I'd like to hear one of those sometime," he said, choosing to ignore her klutz moment and focusing his dark eyes on hers. "I expect your stories are quite different from the ones we have here."

"Most likely," she said, the color fading from her cheeks as she looked at him. "I can tell you one tomorrow on the Road, if you want."

"Great," he said, flashing a smile that reminded her of the troublemaking teenagers at her school who always played pranks and things, yet never seemed to get caught by the teachers. "We should probably start actually training now. We're running out of light."

She nodded, noticing how the shadows had begun to lengthen just in the short amount of time their conversation had taken. He handed her the bow and an arrow, and she held them awkwardly, trying to remember how he had done it.

"Your grip's too tight on the bow," he said immediately, and she loosened her grip slightly. "You're supposed to just hold it, not try and strangle it." She nodded, spreading her feet shoulder-width, but he swooped down on her again. "Align your feet with the target, don't point them outwards." She shifted her feet, wondering how something that looked so simple could be so complicated to get right. "All right, now nock the arrow and make sure it's in the right position…good. Now draw the arrow back."

Now came the difficult part. Alison pulled back on the string, never realizing how much work this was until she was doing it. Her arms began to tremble from the effort of pulling the string back so far; its resistance was proving a challenge for her. "Why is this so hard?" she hissed through her teeth as she pulled it back further, trying to get her hand near her face.

"An arrow needs force if it's going to go anywhere," he pointed out logically, and Alison grit her teeth as she finally managed to align her hand with her eye. "All right…lower your elbow a bit…there, keep it there. Now, do you see your target clearly?"

"Yes," she replied, her back muscles beginning to twitch as she held her position.

"Don't focus on it too much," he warned. "Keep your eye on it, but be aware of your surroundings also."

"Can I shoot now?" she asked, her arms shaking from the strain of holding so long.

"Wait, you're letting your elbow dip too low," he said, and she groaned. "You're doing fine, just wait," he said, chuckling, and then she felt his fingertips, light and quick on her jacket as he pushed her elbow up a little higher. His unexpected touch made her concentration waver for a second, but she snapped her mind back to the target as he stepped away.

"All right, shoot," he said, and she let the arrow go, the projectile flying through the air. And it flew all right—right by the tree, missing the target completely.

Alison felt a stab of frustration. She knew she was being unrealistic, expecting to hit the tree on her first try, but she had hoped her "warrior" blood would come through, proving to her that it was there, that those instincts Gandalf had talked about would awaken and make themselves known to her. With a shock, she realized that that had been exactly what she was waiting for: some proof that Hero blood was actually in her.

She looked to her right and saw Kili watching her, a slight grin on his face. "You're laughing at me," she accused, and his face straightened instantly.

"What? No, I'm not," he protested, and she raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Truly, Alison, I'm not. That was actually really good for your first try. I'm impressed that you actually got the stances down quite easily. Let's keep going. I want to see if you can remember the positions without me correcting you by nightfall."

So they practiced for another half-hour, until all light faded from the sky and Alison's back and arm muscles were screaming in protest as she shot arrow after arrow. By the end of the lesson, she hadn't managed to hit the tree once, though on her last one the arrow skimmed the trunk before disappearing behind it, and she cracked a small smile.

"Good, Alison!" Kili said. "You've made excellent progress tonight. Now we'll have to wait and see if you remember anything next time it's my turn to train you."

She only nodded, too busy rubbing her muscles to say anything. She trekked after him as they went off in search of all the arrows, and a few minutes later they regrouped, placing the arrows in the quiver Kili was carrying.

"C'mon," he said, heading back to the rocky outcrop their camp was under as she trailed after him stiffly. "I'm exhausted, and I want to see if I can smuggle some pipe-weed out of Bofur before I go to sleep."

* * *

_Well, _Kili thought as he entered into the campsite, Alison close behind him. _Guess that plan's botched._

No sooner had he reentered the clearing then Thorin was upon him, his uncle looking up from his place by the campfire with his stony eyes. "Kili," he said. "You are to take the first watch with Fili tonight. Bifur and Bofur will take over a few hours from dawn."

"Yes, Uncle," Kili said, wondering if he would still be able to smoke a bit on his pipe before settling down for the watch.

"Here," Alison said from beside him, and he looked to her as she handed him back his bow. "Thanks for the lesson. You're a pretty good teacher when you're not showing off every two seconds." She grinned at him, her teeth flashing white against her lightly-tanned skin.

"That was only one time," he said, grinning back, and she rolled her eyes playfully. They were a deep jade green in the dim firelight, almost matching the dark forest material of her jacket, and Kili noticed then how he didn't have to look up or down into her face, for they were roughly the same height, though he was a couple inches taller.

"Oh, yeah, how silly of me to forget," she replied sarcastically. "Maybe next time I'll be good enough to show off."

"Don't get cocky," he said, and she grinned again, then winced, rubbing at her arm.

"Guess that's my cue to go lay down," she said, and she nodded respectfully at Thorin before bidding them both goodnight.

"Goodnight, Alison," Kili said as she walked off, still rubbing her arm. Thorin nodded to her, and Kili heard her mutter something strange under her breath as she left, along the lines of "_Really _wishing I had an icy-hot right about now…"

The two dwarves watched her sink onto her bedroll on the other side of the campfire, immediately engaging Ori in conversation as Bombur snored loudly behind her.

"So, how did it go?" His uncle questioned, keeping his voice low so only Kili could hear him.

"She certainly seems able," the dwarf prince replied. "I think Gandalf was correct in his assumption that she has the instincts. They're there, but I think she just isn't aware of it herself, yet. With more training though, I reckon she'll be good to go."

Thorin nodded distractedly. "Good," he said, staring into the fire. Kili teetered, unsure of whether his uncle was going to go on or not, but stopped as Thorin spoke again. "What do you make of her, Kili? What do you make of this whole…Valar ordeal?"

Kili stared at his uncle blankly. Thorin must be truly desperate for answers if he was asking Kili for his opinion, of all people.

"I can't say," he said haltingly, trying to be honest, yet answer maturely at the same time. "I mean…I think it's great that the Valar have sent an Ashburne. That means that they recognize our quest, and they've sent someone to help us obtain our goal, but…" he hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I also feel like this is more than just reclaiming Erebor. I have a feeling that the Valar have sensed something greater than just us taking back our homeland, and they sent Alison because they need her help with…whatever the other thing is."

Thorin nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off of the flames. "I agree," he said. "I sense there is something else that ties in with this quest, and I don't like it. And, of course, if Gandalf knows anything about it, he isn't saying anything." He sighed, and Kili noticed how dark his uncle's eyes looked in the shadows of the fire. "Go watch with your brother, Kili," he said. "And get some sleep afterward. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Kili nodded and crossed over to the large outcrop of rock that sheltered the Company from the summer night's breeze, dragging his bedroll up against the rock and settling himself down next to Fili, who was fiddling with one of his numerous daggers as he watched Kili sit down and prop himself against the outcrop with a small sigh.

"I take it training went well?" Fili said.

"It was good," the dark-haired Dwarf answered. "She has a lot of potential."

Fili nodded thoughtfully. "What were you and Uncle talking about?"

"The same thing we're talking about right now," Kili said, which was half-true; he didn't know if Thorin wanted him to tell Fili their conversation by the fire yet, but Kili silently promised himself he would tell Fili tomorrow. After all, they were brothers, and they never kept secrets from each other. "He just wanted to know how Alison's progress was coming along."

Fili nodded again, going back to playing with his dagger, and Kili leaned his head back against the rock, looking up to the sky. Clouds were starting to drift in, causing sparse moments of cover across the moon, and he stifled a sigh, as he noticed more clouds coming in from the east. A rainstorm was brewing, but it seemed slow-moving, and he figured it would probably reach them by dawn.

_Great, _he thought. _That should be pleasant._

His eyes were brought back down to earth as he heard a peal of laughter, and he looked over to where Alison was sitting with Ori, though now Glóin, Dori, and Nori had joined them. As if realizing how loud she had laughed, Alison put a hand over her mouth, though Kili still saw her shoulders shaking with mirth. The dwarves around her were all chuckling, as well, and from the modest look on Glóin's face, Kili guessed that the older, fiery-haired Dwarf had been the one to crack the joke.

Kili watched Alison as she calmed down, now listening to something Nori was saying with a grin on her face.

He had been honest with Thorin when the king had asked what he made of her. He really didn't know what to think. He'd encountered humans before, but not many, and they had only been Men. He'd only glimpsed women before as he passed through villages on merchant business, but they had seemed very plain and weary, nothing compared to Alison's youth and vitality.

It was obvious she had no problem standing up for herself; he had soon learned that after she had reprimanded Dwalin for his domestic comment, and later Thorin, though he had feared for her safety a bit at the beginning when she had addressed the dwarf king in such a manner. But she wasn't unkind. He had been impressed the night before when she had attempted to speak with Bifur; though she wasn't a Dwarf and didn't know their language, she had still tried and succeeded, and Kili couldn't remember the last time he had seen Bifur smile that widely under his beard. She certainly didn't seem like a warrior yet, with her lack of training in weaponry and fighting, but she definitely had a warrior's spirit, something he found intriguing.

Suddenly a wild shriek ripped through the night, and the campsite grew quiet. Kili broke away from his thoughts, alert and wary from the sound. Though the noise had come from several miles away, he still tensed as he remembered the Warg attack on Alison last night.

Bilbo, who had been trying to discretely feed his pony an apple from his pack, backed away from the edge of the steep ravine, his round eyes darting to and fro in the gloom. "What was that?" he asked.

"Orcs," Kili said, and Thorin glanced up sharply from his place beside the fire.

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated, eyes wide.

"Throat-cutters," Fili said from beside Kili, fixing the Hobbit with a stare that Kili recognized as a joke, but Bilbo took seriously, beginning to fidget. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

Kili joined in on the joke, putting on a fake expression of worry as he spoke to the Hobbit. "They strike, in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Kili glanced over to Fili and they shared a smirk, then began to snicker at the faint expression on the Hobbit's face.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin said, getting to his feet and fixing the brothers with a stare as cold as a snake's. "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"

Kili immediately quailed under his uncle's stare, and Fili fell silent beside him. "We didn't mean anything by it," the younger Dwarf said abashedly.

"No, you didn't," Thorin said harshly, whisking away from the campsite to be alone. "You know nothing of the world." He retreated to the edge of the ravine, his back to the Company as he gazed out at the lowlands beneath them, lost in thought.

There was an uncomfortable silence until Balin broke it, coming over to lean on the rock beside Fili and Kili. "Don't mind him, laddie," he said paternally. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."

Kili sensed a story coming on as Balin caught the looks on Bilbo's and Alison's faces; the rest of the Company was familiar with the story of the War of Dwarves and Orcs, but the two outsiders obviously had no idea what the white-haired Dwarf was talking about.

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thrór tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria," Balin began, speaking to Bilbo and Alison. Though everyone else had heard the tale time and again, they all listened to Balin, as well, ensnared by the older Dwarf's storytelling. "But our enemy had gotten there first."

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began—" Balin hesitated, his breath hitching, then continued in a pained tone. "He began by beheading the king."

"Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us." Balin paused, a slight, sad smile coming to his lips as he prepared for his next part. Kili stole a glance at Alison; she was completely enraptured in Balin's story, her eyes shining as she listened, her lips parted slightly. Kili tore his eyes away from her as Balin went on. "But that was when I saw him. A young Dwarf prince, facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield." Balin's voice rose passionately, and Kili felt himself moved by the Dwarf's words, feeling a sense of pride rise up in him; that was the magic of Balin's storytelling. He could make anyone feel emotion just by listening to his words.

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied, and drove the Orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated."

The few dwarves who had been sleeping earlier were now awake, intent and focused on Balin as he continued, his voice much softer. "But there was no feast, nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived." Balin looked to Thorin, who was still facing away from them on the cliff-side, silhouetted against the moon and clouds. "And I thought to myself then, that there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

Silence pressed upon the Company as they all collectively turned and watched Thorin with awed respect, many of them rising to their feet. Thorin turned away from the cliff-face and faced them, his eyes lined with ancient grief, yet his shoulders straight and proud as he looked at them all. Despite hearing this story many times before, Kili still felt a glow of determination take hold of him as he met his uncle's eyes. They _would _reclaim Erebor.

"And the Pale Orc?" Bilbo's voice broke in, and Thorin dropped Kili's gaze to meet the Hobbit's. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole from whence he came," Thorin said, his lip curling in disgust. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

And that was the end of it. Everyone settled back into their bedrolls, pulling blankets over themselves and quickly falling asleep, the absence of conversation allowing for them to fall into their dreams more quickly than usual.

Fili and Kili shared another glance before settling themselves more comfortably against the outcrop of rock and preparing for the long, silent hours of nothing ahead as they resumed their watch. Almost without thinking, Kili's eyes flickered over to Alison's form curled up on her bedroll across the dying flames of the fire. Her face was turned towards him, her skin aglow with the golden-red embers, and just before she shifted to where the blanket covered her face, he thought he saw a tear slip down her cheek.

* * *

**What? Why's Alison crying? The world may never know... joking. You'll find out in the next chapter!:) **

**Hmm I don't really have anything to say right now, so I guess I'll just end here. Please read and review and give feedback! Thank you, lovelies!:) Until next chapter..**


	7. 7: High Waters

**Hey guys! So Chapter 7 is hereeee. OH, and Merry Post-Christmas everybody! Hope your day was amazing and happy and full of holiday spirit and whatnot!:)**

**AHHHHHHH! So I got the The Hobbit Extended Edition and I watched it yesterday and it was beautiful! I'm so excited to add in all those extra scenes to this story because I personally think they're great!**

**Anyway, read on, my dear readers, and keep the reviews and feedback coming! I love it!:)**

* * *

Chapter Seven: High Waters

True to Kili's prediction, the Company awoke to a dreary mist and low-hanging gray clouds the next morning, and there was much grumbling and complaint as they ate a pathetic meal of damp bread and leftover cold ham from the night before.

After their measly breakfast, the Company packed up and moved on, bringing out their traveling cloaks and drawing up their hoods in an attempt to stave off the clinging drizzle.

Fili resumed his position of rear-guard at the back of the Company as they pressed on down the Great East Road, distinctly unruffled by the moisture coating his uncovered skin and clinging to his hair under his hood. By mid-afternoon, he was downright uncomfortable as the light mist turned into a downpour, and despite his cloak he could feel his sopping clothes sticking to his body, and he scowled at the discomfort.

"Here, Mr. Gandalf," he heard Dori say from the front of the group. "Can't you do something about this deluge?"

"It is raining, Master Dwarf," Gandalf replied from his place at the head of the Company. "And it will continue to rain until the rain is done! If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another Wizard!"

"Are there any?" Bilbo asked, and Fili saw the Hobbit near the front as well, looking quite downtrodden as he didn't have a cloak to shelter him from most of the rain and was soaked to the skin.

Gandalf's reply was lost as Kili hung back until his pony was neck-and-neck with Fili's, and the blonde-haired Dwarf looked to his younger brother as Kili met his gaze, his dark hair dripping water from underneath his hood.

"Lovely weather we're having isn't it?" his brother said with a big smile, and Fili snorted.

"Quite lovely," he said dryly, and Kili chuckled at his brother's clear discomfort. "Have you come to mock at my discomfort, since you're so obviously enjoying yourself, or is there something else you need to speak to me about?" Fili raised his eyebrows pointedly, recalling Kili and Thorin's conversation last night by the fire. He knew Kili was hiding some of the truth from him, but he hadn't pressed, knowing his brother would tell him anyway. And it seemed he was right.

"I wanted to talk to you about mine and Uncle's conversation," he said, and Fili nodded, encouraging him on. "It was about…well, it was about Alison, and the quest."

At the mention of her name, Fili looked to the middle of the traveling Company where Alison rode beside Balin. She had no cloak, either, and her hunting jacket didn't have a hood; Fili guessed she must've been pretty miserable riding in the downpour, but she talked animatedly to the older Dwarf, occasionally making grand gestures with her hands as she talked.

"What about her?" Fili asked, tearing his eyes away from her back and looking to his brother again.

"Uncle believes that the Valar didn't summon her just because of our quest," he said bluntly, launching straight to the point; Kili's virtues had never extended to tact or subtlety. "He thinks that there is something more to this quest, something greater than just Erebor, and it involves Alison and her arrival. And I agree with him."

"So now you're asking what my thoughts are," Fili said, and it wasn't a question. He knew the unspoken plead for his input in his brother's tone, and they rode in silence for a moment as Fili sat, thinking.

"I agree with the both of you, as well," he said finally. "It makes sense. From what I've gathered about the whole Ashburne-line thing, it sounds like they're only called upon for major things, like Johnathan Ashburne and the War of the Ring. Though this quest certainly seems like a major thing, I do also think that there is something else involved; but who knows?"

"Do you think she's meant to kill the dragon?" Kili said, and Fili shot him a look. "I mean, _if _the dragon is still alive," he amended, and Fili shrugged.

"I don't know, Kili. It's too early to know anything for sure. We haven't even reached the Misty Mountains yet, and we still have months to go before we reach the Lonely Mountain itself. I don't know."

They fell back into silence, and Fili was enjoying his quiet solitude until Kili had to open his mouth again.

"Do you think she's nice-looking?" he said abruptly, and Fili almost fell off his pony at the unexpected question. He looked at his brother, but the dark-haired Dwarf was staring ahead adamantly, waiting for Fili's answer.

"Kili, we've known her all but three days," he said, regaining his wits and glancing ahead to make sure no one was overhearing their conversation. Thankfully, no one seemed to be paying them much attention. "I hardly think that's a fair amount of time to give her judgment." Fili suddenly looked at his brother suspiciously. "Why? Do you think she's nice-looking?"

Kili gave a non-committal grunt and jerked one shoulder. "She doesn't have a beard," was all he said in reply, and Fili decided to let the subject drop before it got any stranger and more awkward.

Eventually, Kili rode back up to his spot behind Alison, and Fili watched the human girl's drenched hair-tail swing back and forth as she rode, wondering why Kili would ask such an abnormal and unexpected question.

Was it possible that he…? Fili shook his head, choosing not to finish that thought. Kili was young, and he had always been impressionable, but it wasn't fathomable… After all, he was a Dwarf, and she was a human from another world, the mortal world. And who knew what would happen to her after they finished their quest and took back the Mountain? The Valar would probably send her home, her task completed…

He felt a strange twinge in his chest at the thought, and he pushed all wonderings of Kili and Alison out of his head. For some unknown reason he couldn't explain, Kili's question had unnerved him, and as the Company rode on through the rain, he couldn't shake the foreign feeling that had suddenly developed in the back of his mind, and the feeling persisted him as the rain continued on and they journeyed farther and farther into the Wild.

* * *

If Alison thought that her journey on the North-South Road was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to this.

In any other situation, she would've loved the rain. It was the heavy, steady kind of rain that patters on the roof at night and lulls people to sleep with the sound, and it was nice and cool, not too cold for the summer season. However, since she was stuck on a pony riding through Middle-earth, and the rain wasn't relenting, without a hood or cloak to have at least some cover from the precipitation, and her arms and back tight coils of stiff muscle, then she was miserable.

She had given up on trying to keep her spirits high as they trudged along through the mud and puddles, the rest of the Company as silent and disgruntled as she was. She vaguely listened to Gandalf's explanation to Bilbo about the other Wizards, but seeing as she had already heard about the Order when she first fell into Middle-earth, she tuned them out.

Without realizing it, her eyes had subconsciously drifted to Thorin's back where he rode behind Gandalf, and she remembered Balin's story about the war at Moria from last night.

She had listened intently, Balin's voice filling her with mixed emotions as he told the tale; hope, sorrow, and a pressing grief that lay heavy on her bones. It wasn't until Balin had finished the story and she had laid down for sleep when she realized that the grief wasn't stemming from Thorin's story—it was her own grief, long since buried after the death of her father.

The war and hearing about Thorin's father had opened up a well in her heart, and painful memories had risen to the surface. She felt a connection to Thorin, though she would never tell him that. She had lost her own father to war when she was twelve—or, rather, three months after he had returned home, from a heart attack—and she would never forget his funeral; the coffin, draped with the flag, and the military salute, with the rifles firing three shots into the air as she watched her father pass away beyond her reach. Of course, she knew that he had been long gone before then, but seeing the coffin disappear into the cold, hard earth had seemed so final, and it had hit her then that he was gone forever. Listening to Thorin's father's fate had ripped open that old wound, and when she had gone to bed, she had silently broken down.

Everything had come crashing down at her at once, and she cried for all the pent-up emotions she had been hoarding for the past three days; her fear of the unknown, her uncertainty that she could change the line of Durin's fates, the homesickness for her family and friends and stupid small town—it had all slammed into her, and she had curled into a ball and let the tears flow, muffling her cries into her blanket so she wouldn't disturb the others.

She was fine now, though. It was difficult and painful, but she knew that there was no use crying over the inevitable and the unchangeable, so she had put on her brave face this morning and kept her head down. And besides, she had more pressing matters on her mind.

After Thorin had told Bilbo that Azog had died from his wounds long ago, Alison had caught an exchange between Balin and Gandalf that had both confused and terrified her in equal measure. It was a look of warning and uncertainty, and Gandalf had glanced away uncomfortably after a few seconds, not realizing that he had captured Alison's attention and she had seen the whole brief exchange between the old Dwarf and the Wizard. She was burning to know what that exchange had been about, but she knew that she hadn't been meant to see it, and she didn't want to reveal her nosiness to the two.

And she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

After a few more miles of being wrapped up in her thoughts, Alison felt a pony drop back to her side, and she looked up, expecting to see Kili, ready for a story, but was taken aback as she recognized Balin beside her.

Her mouth snapped closed on the witty remark she had been about to say to "Kili", and Balin smiled kindly at her, his eyes twinkling good-naturedly.

"Sorry, lass, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, misinterpreting her expression as one of alarm instead of relief of having caught herself before saying something foolish to the wise Dwarf. "I came to see how you were holding up back here. You seem a little down."

"I'm fine," she said, giving a little shrug. "I think we're all a little under the weather at the moment." Then she winced. "Sorry, bad pun."

Balin chuckled, waving his hand and flapping water droplets into her face; not that it mattered. Her face felt like it was already submerged underwater anyway.

"Well, good," he said, adjusting his hood a little lower over his face. "That's good." There was a brief pause, and then the white-haired Dwarf turned to her, his face alight with curiosity. "Do they have libraries in your world, Miss Ashburne?"

"Libraries?" she said, wondering how that question had popped up from bad puns about the weather. "Well, yes, we do. Millions of them, probably."

"Millions?" Balin echoed, and his eyes lit up with intense interest. "Have you ever been to one?"

"Plenty of times," she said, warming up to the old Dwarf; she had thought he had been one of the disapproving ones of her, such as Dwalin and Thorin, but looking at him through the rain, Alison thought that maybe she had gained another companion. "But it wasn't grand or spectacular. It was just a regular public library in my town."

She noticed that she was starting to gain the others' attention as she talked, but she didn't mind that much anymore. Most of them had taken to her and were kind, and she had become more comfortable speaking around them. She looked back to Balin. "However, there's this one library that I've always dreamed of going to. It's called the Library of Congress, and it's this beautiful round room, like a cathedral…" she went on explaining about the library, using expansive gestures as she did so to convey the enormity of the room, and then Ori had asked her to describe a cathedral from her world, so she did that next while the dwarves listened in rapture.

At one point, Alison had glanced back over her shoulder, and she noticed Fili and Kili riding at the rear, talking in hushed tones and facing each other seriously. She wondered what they were talking about, as Fili shot his brother a sharp glance and his face twitched in surprise. She watched the older dwarf prince for a moment as he replied to his brother, a weird expression on his face, and Alison found herself staring at him a little too intently. She turned back to the front of the Company, hoping none of the others had seen her scrutiny of the fair-haired Dwarf.

She heard a pony splash up behind her a few minutes later, and wasn't all that surprised when she heard Kili's cheeky voice. "Are you going to tell me a story now, Alison, or should I wait until my ears have collected enough water to where I can't hear?"

"And what type of story did you have in mind?" she asked, shooting him a quick glance over her shoulder. Her eyes sought his through the rain, and she thought she caught a strange flicker in the dark depths as he met her gaze, before it was gone and she told herself it must've been a trick of the rain.

"Tell me one of your favorites," he said, and Alison thought for a minute.

"That's kind of hard. I have a lot of favorites." She dropped her horse back to ride beside him, not wanting to crane her neck around every time she spoke to him.

"Just pick any one you like," he said. "I don't mind."

"Um…all right," she cast her mind around for a few seconds, until she landed on a memory of her on the couch in her house, curled up reading a _Harry Potter _book to her siblings. She grinned to herself as she looked at Gandalf's back; oh, the Wizard was going to like this one…

"Okay, I have one," she said, and Kili looked to her attentively as she began. "So, uh…once upon a time, there was this Dark wizard, who called himself Lord Voldemort. While he announced himself as that, though, all the other witches and wizards called him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'…"

And so Alison told the whole story of 'Harry Potter' from beginning to end, taking up most of the day as she talked, for there were seven books to cover, and she kept getting interrupted by the dwarves whenever they had a question about a specific event or character. More than once, she had to remind them that this was just a made-up tale in her world, and no she didn't know how to actually cast a Patronus Charm and no she did not have a house-elf working in her home. Other than that, she quite enjoyed telling the story to the fascinated Company, and by the time they came to the river, her throat was dry and her voice was getting scratchy from so much speaking.

"Stop!" Thorin called from the front, interrupting Alison just as she had gotten to the part where Harry and Voldemort finally faced each other down after Harry's "resurrection" and he was explaining how the Elder Wand was rightfully his. The Company obeyed, pulling their horses to a halt.

The rain had finally ceased, and the oppressing gray clouds were beginning to dissipate, revealing a pink-streaked sky as the sun neared the end of its daytime journey.

"What is it? Why have we stopped?" Dwalin asked from in front of Alison and Kili.

"The river," Thorin grunted, gesturing ahead, and the Company all craned their heads to see a voracious, fast-flowing river a few feet away from them, obviously flooded from the torrential rains of the past day.

"We can still get across," Kili said optimistically. "It'll just be a lot more dangerous than usual."

Alison looked at the river skeptically; 'dangerous' was a bit of an understatement. The water had to be as high as her chest, and moving that fast…

"We'll have to cross here," Thorin agreed. "It'll take too long to go around, and I don't want to be stuck on this side of the river after nightfall if there is something hunting us." Alison shivered at his words. "Kili, gather up the ropes and knot them together. You'll swim to the other side and tie it to a tree so we can cross with the ponies."

Kili nodded, removing his rope from his saddle and then reaching across for Alison's. "Kili, be careful," she said worriedly, and the young dwarf prince winked at her as he gathered up her rope.

"Don't worry," he said, swinging off his horse and going to collect the others' ropes. "I'm like a fish in the water. I'll be on the other side before you know it."

Alison nodded as he whisked away, feeling a tight strain of anxiety as she looked back out to the water. It was brown and murky as it rushed past, and it was about forty yards across. _Please, please don't let him drown _she prayed to whatever force watched over this world.

Kili approached the river bank, all the ropes knotted together over his arm as he took one end and tied it to a tree on their side of the river. Then he waded into the fast-moving water and walked out until the water reached his chest, and then he began to swim, kicking out hard and dragging himself forward through the current. He reached the other side and clambered up onto the bank, shaking himself like a wet dog, and Alison breathed out a sigh of relief, not even aware she had been holding her breath until the dwarf prince had made it safely to the other shore.

"All right, Gandalf, you first," Thorin said, and the Wizard sloshed to the bank, grabbing hold of the rope with one hand and leading his horse with the other. "Balin, you next, and then everyone else. Walk your horse, don't ride it through the water, and when the person in front of you reaches the middle of the river, then you will begin to cross after them. Don't let go of the rope and watch your step. We'll continue for a ways after we all cross and then set up camp for the night. Is everyone in agreement?"

The Company all nodded and muttered in consent, and they watched as Gandalf reached the other shore, leading his waterlogged horse up the bank with the assistance of Kili. Balin reached the middle of the river, and Alison feared the short Dwarf was going to be dragged under, but he kept going, reaching the other side as Dwalin waded into the current.

After Dwalin came Thorin, then Bilbo, who lost his footing for a moment and went under, but splashed back up again, gasping and continuing forward. One by one everyone crossed the river, until the only people left on the other side were Alison, Glóin, Bombur, and Fili.

Bombur went first out of the four, his fat seeming to buoy him up as he crossed, but he went painfully slow, and Alison felt sweat beginning to slick her palms as she stepped up to the river. She had her own horse and Kili's horse with her, holding both of their reins in one hand so she could grab on to the rope with her other. Glóin would follow her, leading his horse and the other supply pony, and Fili would go last, untying the rope on their side and meeting up with them on the opposite bank.

Bombur reached the middle of the river, and Alison waded into the water with a deep breath. Immediately a spike of cold shot through her legs, and the current tugged at her, threatening to drag her in and under. She pushed forward, leading the ponies and muttering comforting words of encouragement to them as she grasped the rope, pulling herself along as the water sucked at her clothes.

Everything was going smoothly until she reached the center of the river, where the current was at its strongest. The water lapped at her shoulders, and her teeth began to chatter from the chill. The horses began to snort and make frightened noises behind her, and she said, "It's okay. We're okay. We're—"

At that moment, Alison stepped weirdly on a dislodged rock, and her boot slipped, threatening to throw her under the current. Luckily, she managed to stay upright, but her sudden, jerky movement had spooked her horse, and the pony attempted to rear in the water, yanking its rope out of her hand.

"No, no, you're okay—" she attempted to say, but her horse whinnied, and suddenly the pony was floundering in the current as the river bore her away, losing her footing and not having Alison holding onto her bridle to steady her.

"Shit!" she said, and in a split second, she made a decision. She took Kili's horse's bridle and tied it securely to the rope spanning across the river; as she did so, she heard Thorin's voice yelling out to her from the opposite bank.

"Miss Ashburne, keep moving! Kili will get the pony! Keep moving!"

Alison glanced to the shore where most of the Company was standing, but she knew Kili would never reach the horse in time; the pony would soon be swept too far downstream to save, and Alison was still in the water, and the current was on her side.

Hoping that those swimming lessons she had taken in middle school would help her now, Alison launched herself into the current, and almost immediately regretted her decision as the coldness of the water stabbed into her skin like tiny daggers and sucked away her breath.

She tumbled and scraped along the bottom of the river as the current whisked her downstream, and she started to panic as she struggled to reach the surface. Then, remembering to kick, she pushed off of the muddy bottom and fought her way to the surface, gasping in air. She took in her surroundings, searching for her horse, and she saw the pony a few feet away from her, splashing and fighting against the water, its eyes rolling with fear.

She kicked out towards the pony, noticing that in the few seconds she had been submerged underwater the river had carried her far downstream, where the water was much deeper, and she couldn't see the Company anymore, though she noted with relief that the shore was actually fairly close.

Alison neared the pony with difficulty, trying to avoid being hit by one of its flailing legs as she reached for the bridle and grasped it in triumph. However, her victory was short-lived, as the pony shrieked and tumbled back underwater, dragging Alison with it.

River water shot up Alison's nose and she choked, not having had any time to take a breath before being pulled under. With horror, she realized her wrist was tangled in the horse's bridle, and no matter how hard she tugged, she couldn't free her hand. She was dragged mercilessly along by the current, and her eyes were starting to swim with black spots from lack of oxygen. She attempted to kick to the surface, but the pony's weight was too much; she was stuck under the water.

Pure terror seized her as her lungs began to burn, and all she could think was, _I'm going to die. I'm going to die by drowning. I'm going to die because I was too stupid_ _to let just one damn horse go._

Despair rose up within her, and her brain was going fuzzy. She was on the verge of unconsciousness when suddenly her grip on the bridle slackened, and then her hand was free. She felt hands under her arms, pulling her back up to the surface, lifting her back to the sky and the air—

Alison's head broke the surface, and she sputtered and gasped, trying to expel the river water from her lungs but also trying to breathe at the same time. "Alison, listen to me," a familiar voice said as she gagged, and she tried to focus her eyes on the person, but she was too dizzy. "Alison, make for the bank. Swim, swim to the shore. I need you to swim for me, all right?"

She nodded once, noticing the river bank through her oxygen-lacking haze, and she struck for the shore, her movements clumsy and awkward. After what seemed like years, her feet began to touch solid ground again, and she half-swam, half-dragged herself out of the river, flopping onto the grassy shore and immediately retching up water.

Her vision was starting to clear as she forced herself to her hands and knees, and she scanned the river in panic, that overwhelming feeling of terror closing up her throat again as she searched the water, no sign of life anywhere in the rushing current.

"Fili?" she croaked, her voice scratchy and hoarse from her vomiting spell. "Fili! Fili!" She was sure she had heard his voice, she was sure he had saved her; but where was he? "Fili!"

"I'm here." She heard his voice, and her head whipped to the left, seeing him slowly walk towards her, a knife in one hand and leading the trembling and wild-eyed pony by a broken bridle in the other.

"Oh, my God," she said in relief, rushing towards him and throwing her arms around him. "Oh, thank God you're alive." She pulled back from him, meeting his startled eyes and then looking him over. He looked like he had lost a fight with a hurricane, and was completely waterlogged, but other than that he was fine. "I thought—you—"

"Alison," he interrupted in a tightly controlled voice, and she met his gaze again apprehensively, his eyes steely as he looked down at her. "Are you completely mad, or do you just have a death wish? What in Durin's name could _possibly _have possessed you to jump in after this horse? What was your sole purpose of rescuing this creature, and Mahal knows you better have a good reason."

She quailed under the fierce look he was giving her, and she suddenly felt shame well up in her; what _had _possessed her to save this horse? "I—I don't know. Supplies—I…" Her voice gave out, knowing that Fili didn't believe her. His reaction was more unnerving than anything; he was usually easy-going, fun and light-hearted, though more subdued than his brother. Seeing him this angry was uncharacteristic, and it alarmed her, and also made her feel guilty that her recklessness had driven him to this point.

"Look, if you're trying to make a statement to the rest of the Company to show how 'tough' or 'warrior-like' you are so you can prove to them you're not just some helpless little girl, then pulling stunts like this needs to stop," he said angrily. "There are other ways of proving your worth than making reckless decisions and putting your life at risk. Mocking death isn't going to help you with anything besides throwing away your life because of a stupid decision. Do you understand me, Alison?"

"Yes," she said meekly, refusing to meet his eyes. Her whole body burned with shame, and she had to blink back tears that were threatening at the corners of her eyes.

She heard Fili sigh somewhere above her hanging head. "Look at me," he said, and his voice was gentler now, though that steely edge still remained underneath it. Reluctantly, she raised her head and met his eyes.

The gray-blue depths softened as she looked into them, though she could still sense his displeasure with her actions. "It was a selfless thing you did, but a foolhardy one. Just remember there is more to being a warrior than noble deeds and brave acts. It takes thought and a steady heart; impulsive actions and snap decisions are rarely helpful in life-or-death situations. A clear mind and sharp wits are always your best friend."

"I understand," she said quietly, and they held each other's gazes for a long moment until Fili cleared his throat and nodded behind her.

"We should probably get back to the others before they suspect the worst," he said, and she silently agreed, trudging her way back upstream with him and the horse beside her.

"Did everyone make it across all right?" she asked to break the tense silence between them. She was surprised at how far downstream they had traveled in such a short time as they slipped up the grassy embankment, their wet clothes and half-drowned limbs slowing them down.

He nodded, trying to keep himself steady on the slippery grass. "Glóin got the other ponies across and I think he went back to get the rope, as well. But I'm not sure. I jumped in after you before I could know." She felt another twinge of guilt at that as Fili tucked the knife he had been holding into the inside of his drenched cloak. Between the blade and the broken bridle he held in his other hand, Alison guessed that he must've cut the pony's bridle to free her hand, which just made her feel ten times worse.

He had risked his own life to save her, and what did she have to show for it? She had claimed to save the pony because of supplies, and only half of the supply bags remained on the pony's back. The rest had been washed away by the river.

And looking back on it, she knew Fili was right. She had been desperate to prove herself. She wanted to show the Company that they hadn't made a mistake in bringing her along on the quest. She felt tears prick her eyes again as she realized that her decision was entirely foolish, and now she just looked weak _and _reckless in the eyes of the Company. She wouldn't be surprised if Gandalf and Thorin chose to kick her out of the quest after her stunt and told her to make for Isengard again and go home.

She looked up from her self-misery as a figure appeared in front of them, and Kili hurried over to his brother, exclaiming, "Durin's beard, Fili, you look like a drowned cat!" The two brothers briefly clapped each other on the back as Fili grimaced at his brother's remark.

Watching their exchange, Alison felt guilt such as she had never felt in her life before. She could have taken Fili away from Kili. The oldest dwarf prince could've drowned himself trying to save her. Hysteria bubbled up in her; she was supposed to be _protecting_ the brothers, not risking her life like some damsel in distress so they could save her at the last second, while putting their own lives in danger. How was she supposed to save them if her own blind stupidity and impulsiveness killed them first?

"Alison, thank Mahal you're all right," Kili said, approaching her with his cloak to presumably wrap around her shoulders. He stopped though, puzzled, as she staggered back, shaking her head. She couldn't do it. She couldn't accept their kindnesses when she was a hazard for their lives. "Alison, what's wrong? Alison? Alison!"

She was trembling hysterically, shaking her head back and forth, too shaken to form words. Kili looked to Fili with a concerned look. "What's wrong with her? Is she ill?"

Fili shook his head worriedly. "I think it's just shock. I don't know—"

He broke off as the rest of the Company appeared, Thorin leading in front with an expression that could crumble a mountain. His eyes took in Fili, seeing his nephew was all right, before rounding on Alison and stalking up close to her face.

If she had thought Fili's eyes were angry, it was _nothing _compared to Thorin's. He was furious, and she could imagine sparks spitting from the gray-blue depths as she shrank to the size of an ant under his gaze.

"One day," he growled, and Alison gulped at his deadly tone. "One day, Miss Ashburne, and you have already disregarded my words to you completely. I warned you that if you were to come on this quest with us, you would be expected to follow my orders and respect my decisions without question. And when I gave you a clear command to _keep moving, _you ignored me and instead went flailing after the horse, nearly killing yourself in the process. You are lucky Fili's actions proved swift and successful."

Alison felt as if she had been tied to a stake and was burning, Thorin's words and her own shame melting her skin right off her bones as the Company stood and watched in stunned silence. "I will warn you once more, Miss Ashburne, and this time, heed it: you will not disobey my orders anymore. If you defy me in such a way again, I will cast you out of this Company without hesitation, regardless of the implications it will have on the world at large. I will not endanger the lives of this Company any more than I have to because you are too impulsive and defiant to follow commands."

Alison looked up at him, aghast at his words. One more shot, and she was out of the quest? But another part knew she couldn't argue with him; he was perfectly right. "Do you understand me, Miss Ashburne?"

She swallowed, trying not to break down like a small child under his blazing eyes. "Perfectly." She said in a small voice.

Thorin glared at her for a moment more before turning to the rest of the Company, ordering them to move out; they would travel for a few more miles before stopping to rest for the night.

Alison kept her head down as she trudged over to her horse, accepting the bridle reins from Fili wordlessly as she avoided everyone's eyes, too ashamed and mortified from Thorin's irate outburst to show her face. She sensed Kili starting towards her, but Fili put his hand on his brother's shoulder, shaking his head as she swung herself onto her bedraggled and bogged down pony.

The Company fell into step behind Thorin and Gandalf once more, and Alison trailed after them dejectedly, her loose, wet hair dripping into her eyes as she rode.

By the time the moon appeared in the sky, she was shivering violently from the leftover chill of her damp, clinging clothes, and when they stopped and made camp in a small clearing near a stream that ran off from the river, she sat as close to the fire as she could without catching aflame and waited for her hair and clothes to dry, her teeth chattering despite the heat of the fire and the warm summer night.

When Bombur approached her quietly with a small plate of food, she only shook her head in reply and stared into the flames, rocking back and forth with her knees to her chin. She felt awful, and she was too disgusted with herself as a human being to bring herself to talk or sit with anyone in the Company that night.

Shortly after she was dry, she let down the rest of her hair, sliding her hair-tie (which had miraculously survived her fight with the river) onto her wrist and then curling up on her still-slightly damp bedroll and blanket, which had also somehow made it out of the crazy downstream journey.

Hoping she would feel somewhat better by the next morning, Alison closed her eyes and fell asleep with her back to the fire and the Company, grateful for the emotionless release the darkness gave her as she sank into oblivion.

* * *

Fili watched as Alison sank onto her bedroll— which was separated from the others' by her own doing—not even bothering to remove her jacket and boots before quickly falling asleep, her back towards the rest of the Company as they talked in hushed voices and finished up their meals.

Even though her actions had been reckless and foolish and went directly against Thorin's orders, Fili still felt sympathetic for her as he watched her back rise and fall to the slow rhythm of her breathing. She had seemed genuinely guilty and abashed of what she had done afterwards, and though he would never say this to his uncle's face outright, he thought that Thorin's treatment of her had been a little harsh. Yet he understood where his uncle's actions were stemming from.

Thorin was concerned at what Alison's arrival meant for all of them, and Fili didn't blame him. Having an Ashburne certainly seemed like a good omen for their quest, but in retrospect, was it really? What had started out as a journey to reclaim a homeland had suddenly taken a sharp turn, leading them into the dark about what their true goal was now, and Fili knew that all of them were uneasy for the hidden path that lay ahead, so he couldn't blame Thorin for snapping at her. The dwarf king was afraid for the future, and disliked the fact that she would play such a pivotal role in what had originally been their Company of fourteen—fifteen, if Gandalf was included.

As he gazed off into space, fiddling with his pipe, Fili recalled standing by the river side as Alison had defied Thorin and plunged herself into the water after her horse. He had known with a sinking feeling what she was going to do when he had watched her tie Kili's horse to the rope, and when she had disappeared into the murky depths of the water, a small sense of panic had gripped him.

Despite his warning to Alison that impulsive actions and hasty decisions were never the answer, he hadn't hesitated before tearing off down the river bank and launching himself in after her when he got near enough. He had been paralyzed when she had gotten her hand stuck in the horse's bridle and was dragged under the surface, and once she was safe after he had freed her, he was sorely tempted to haul her to the shore and see if she was all right.

But knowing that he could still have a chance of saving some of the pony's supplies and making sure her near-death experience wasn't in vain, he had been forced to let her go back to shore on her own and go after the pony.

And then, once he had clambered back to solid ground, dragging the pony behind him, he had been caught completely off-guard when she had wrapped her arms around him in a genuinely relieved fashion. The unexpected contact had startled him, but he figured in her world they must be more inclined to physical relief rather than verbal. That strange feeling had risen up in the back of his mind again, and as he sat there thinking about the day's events he felt it probe his thoughts once more before shutting it down and forcing it away again.

"Bombur and Dori, you're on first watch," Thorin said, breaking through Fili's reverie. "Balin and I will take second. The rest of you get some sleep. We're entering into the true Wild tomorrow, and I want everyone sharp and on your guard. We leave at dawn."

Fili went over to his bedroll, which was situated in a small group consisting of him, Kili, Bofur and Ori a little ways away from everybody else. As he settled himself down, noting with a slight grimace that his clothes were still damp, the other three dwarves joined him and got ready for sleep also.

Fili laid his head down, closing his eyes, but was immediately roused again as he heard Ori say, "Do you think Thorin would really send Alison back?" He lifted his head and opened his eyes, noticing the other three propped up on their elbows and facing each other, Ori twiddling with his journal cover worriedly as he beseeched the others.

"Of course not," Kili said with confidence. "She's destined to help us. Even Thorin wouldn't turn down fate."

"He sounded pretty serious earlier," Bofur pointed out, chewing absent-mindedly on his pipe.

"Because he _was_ serious," Fili replied, and the others looked to him, not realizing he had been paying attention. "You have to understand where he's coming from. When he gives an order, he expects it to be followed, especially if it's concerning the lives of one of the Company. He would've reacted like that to any one of us had we chosen such a blockheaded moment to defy him. He's not acting like this on purpose because she's a woman or an Ashburne; he just values the safety of the people under his guide."

"Well said, lad," Bofur said, and the others nodded in agreement. Ori, looking immensely relieved, clutched his journal to his chest as he lay back down, and Bofur soon followed suit. Only Kili remained alert, staring off into space with an intense look Fili recognized as his thoughtful face.

"You all right, Kili?" he asked, punching his arm lightly. Kili jerked, looking to his older brother.

"Yeah, fine," he said. His expression was carefully neutral, which Fili found strange. His brother had always been easy to read, too carefree to really consider having a mental guard. He had one now, though, and Fili didn't know whether to be glad that his little brother was growing up and forming that guard, or nervous that it was showing up at this particular moment.

He chose to let it go though, as Kili lay down as well and said, "'Night, Fili."

"'Night, Kili." He replied, and as he closed his eyes, he wondered just how much this quest was going to change them all as sleep pulled him under.

* * *

**Well, I think we all know by this point who the love interests boil down to, but I'd still like to hear your thoughts about it! Even though I can't directly say who it is, I do like to drop hints...;)**

**So that's this chapter's question. Normally I don't like to do these kinds of questions pertaining to my story, but I'm feelin' it tonight so leggo: Which brother do you think is going to be "The One"?**

**Thank you for reading another chapter, all of your views and reviews and F/F mean so much to me! So please continue with your feedback and reviews, they make me so happy!:) Thank you, lovelies! Until next chapter...**


	8. 8: A Bad Feeling

**Chapter 8 in da houseee. Hope y'all like it!:) and thank you so much for your continued support! See you at the bottom..**

* * *

Chapter Eight: A Bad Feeling

Thorin sat in the pre-dawn shadows of the morning, his eyes scanning their surroundings as he listened above the din of crickets and woodland creatures, straining to catch something, anything, that would tell him if they were being watched.

Nothing revealed itself to him, however, and the unease he had been feeling since the night of the Warg attack tickled its cold fingers across the back of his neck again; he knew there was something wrong, something astray in the scheme of things, but he couldn't put his finger on it. All he knew was that a bad feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach.

Even the weather seemed tense, holding its breath as if it, too, were waiting for whatever was in the shadows to make itself known. The air had turned humid and stifling as the night wore on, and Thorin slapped at his neck where a bug had just pinched him; no doubt the insect had been drawn to him from the smell of the river and the sweaty, dirty stench from lack of a bath.

"These cursed bugs!" he heard Balin grunt from beside him, and there was a sharp smack as the older Dwarf killed one that had been perched on his cheek. "Never again am I camping by a stream, Thorin. I think I've lost about a pint of blood as it is."

Thorin allowed himself a small grin at his old friend's discomfort. "They must enjoy your stench if they're attacking you this much."

"You're one to talk," Balin retorted jokingly, as he swiped the air near his face. "Have you smelled yourself lately?"

Thorin didn't reply to the jibe, just chuckled. "Take a rest, Balin. I can watch by myself for the next few hours. You'll need all the sleep you can get."

"An impossible task, considering these infernal beasts," the old Dwarf said, though Thorin knew he was grateful for the extra chance of sleep. "Just wake me if you need anything, laddie."

He clapped Thorin's shoulder affectionately before laying down on his bedroll, still swishing away the bugs that followed him before drifting into a comfortable doze. Thorin watched the white-haired Dwarf for a moment.

He had been immensely glad and relieved once he found out that Balin had agreed to come on the quest. Though Thorin knew the old Dwarf had some reservations about taking back their homeland from Smaug—if the abomination was even still alive—he had never been more grateful, for Balin was his most trusted advisor and one of his oldest friends and cousin. Thorin trusted his counsel more than anything, and he wondered if he should seek it now, after the whole situation at the river the evening before.

Thorin had thought about it all night. While he knew his actions were justified, he had seen in the eyes of the Company that his reaction was completely unexpected, and maybe a bit excessive, though they respected him enough not to bash his methods. Thorin's long thought had brought him to the conclusion that maybe the delivery was excessive, but he meant his words.

When the Company looked at Alison Ashburne, they saw a small human girl from another world struggling to fit in to this new world she had been unknowingly sucked into, thrown on a quest with thirteen dwarves and a Hobbit she didn't know. Thorin could see it too, and he respected her for making the decision to come despite her reservations, but he could also see something much different in her.

Thorin had heard tales of Ashburnes before; they had always been described as great human warriors, skilled in weaponry and wise in their counsel, selfless and enduring. Though she wasn't trained and didn't at all fit the profile of a warrior, he could sense Alison possessed some of the qualities well enough. She was brave in her own way and selfless, though completely unorthodox and reckless, and when she wasn't making snippy remarks or sarcastic jokes, she seemed mature beyond her years, with a special insight into things and people. Though the Company viewed her as a fragile human, Thorin knew that Miss Ashburne wasn't entirely as she seemed. And though he would never admit it out loud, he agreed with Gandalf when the Wizard had said training would make her a valuable asset; from what he had heard, Ashburnes were weapons unto themselves, and he was curious to see if her skills lived up to the legends.

But he would not allow her to be a danger to his Company. He had been serious when he threatened to banish her from the quest if she did anything as impulsive like that again. And though he had feared for her safety as well, Fili had been his main concern, and his nephew was the only thing on his mind when he had snapped at her. Had he lost Fili…

He shook his head at the thought, not wanting to go down that path. He had promised his sister, Dis, that he would look after and protect her sons, his nephews, from harm to the best of his ability, and he planned to do that. But how could he when they threw themselves into harm's way? He understood they had never been in battle or on adventures before; they were experimenting, and they had always been bold and daring. But Fili's actions had concerned him.

Fili was next in line to the throne, and Thorin had groomed him all his life for it, raising him to be a fair and just prince, knowing that if something were to happen to him, then his line would be secure in the older prince's hands. Though Fili had his own personality, what he had done back at the river had been something more expected from Kili. He didn't know what to think of Fili's impulsive act yet, but he was now going to be keeping a sharper eye on him…

A sudden movement to his right caught his attention, and he sat up straight against the tree trunk he was leaning on, automatically reaching for his sword hilt. He relaxed though, once he saw that it was just Alison getting up from her bedroll, brushing her hair out of her face as she walked sleepily into the trees around them.

Thorin waited for her to come back, watching as the shadows began to turn paler as the sky turned lighter; they would have to pack up and move on soon. They had a lot of distance to cover that day, and he wanted an early start.

A few minutes later, Alison returned back to the campsite, and Thorin gestured from his place by the tree to get her attention. She approached him warily, her eyes hard and her face closed, and he felt an infinitesimal prickle of guilt as he realized she was cautious of _him. _

"What?" she asked quietly yet irritably as she reached him. "Am I forbidden to go to the bathroom now if I don't have your orders?"

Thorin felt his mouth tighten, but he tried to let it go as he became aware of her reaction. Her shame from the night before had hardened overnight to become a guard for her, a shield of detached wariness for her to hide behind. He found it slightly impressive that she had managed to put up a defense so quickly, but he knew that it wasn't her personality to act like this.

He ignored her comment, instead inclining his head to a tree stump a few feet away from his seat at the base of his own tree. She moved stiffly and sat down, crossing her arms and legs tightly as she looked to him expectantly.

"I'm not going to take back my words from yesterday," he said, and she remained expressionless. "But I would like to…apologize." The words seemed to grate on his tongue as they came out, but he swallowed his pride for a moment as her eyebrows raised high. "My tone was not in order, and I realize that I should not have treated you so harshly, though my words remain true. I will not permit you to flaunt my orders and do whatever you want. I am still the leader of this quest."

"I understand," she said, and her tone was less biting than it had been before. "And I accept your apology. I'm…sorry, also," Thorin noted with faint amusement how the words came out grudgingly from her mouth too; apparently they shared the same mind-set when it came to apologies. "I shouldn't have disobeyed your orders like that. It was stupid, it was reckless, it was completely out of line, and I just…um, sorry."

Thorin nodded, accepting her words, and they fell into a slightly awkward silence. After her apology, he noticed that the girl's shoulders had lost some of their sharp edge, and she seemed more relaxed, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Are you ready to continue your training tonight?" he asked her, and she looked up, nodding her head eagerly. Some of the light had returned to her eyes and a small smile played on her lips. "Good. Dwalin will take your turn tonight."

At this, he noticed her smile fade a little, and she suddenly looked anxious. "All right."

"Is there a problem?" he said, confused by her facial expression.

"No, no. It's just…" she hesitated, blowing a loose strand of brown hair from her face. "I just…don't think he likes me much."

Thorin felt a flicker of amusement, thinking how Dwalin must've looked to this human girl. Though Thorin and the others were used to his appearance, he realized how intimidating the battle-scarred and tattooed Dwarf must seem to her. "Dwalin rarely likes anybody unless you earn his respect. He may seem hostile or distrustful, but he will warm up to you…eventually."

She nodded, though she didn't seem convinced. She looked up to the lightening sky, where the first rays of pink and gold were melding together to announce the arrival of the sun. "We should probably get moving again, huh?" she said, and Thorin nodded in agreement.

She got to her feet, and he made to do the same, but stopped when he noticed her outstretched hand. He looked at it for a moment, taken aback by the gesture, and she held it out more insistently. "Honestly Thorin, I'm not going to Judo-flip you. It's just a hand." At her comment, he took it and allowed her to help him to his feet, brushing off his clothes. He thought about asking what the term "Judo-flip" meant, but she had already walked off, beginning to pack up her bedroll and blanket.

Thorin knelt down and shook Balin awake, and the old Dwarf opened his eyes, yawning and immediately packing up without question as Thorin went around waking the others.

Soon, everyone was awake and packed, and they ate a hurried meal of porridge before loading back up their ponies and riding out.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, they were already traveling farther and farther into the Wild, and as they rode on through the day, the bad feeling Thorin had been sensing since his watch came back, creeping up on him and making his jaw twitch in anxiety. Something was about to happen; he knew it. But his prediction didn't prove true until that night.

The Company traveled swiftly that day, some of them holding rambunctious conversations that roused laughter from the dwarves, while others, like himself, opted to remain in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts.

At some point in high afternoon, Thorin had looked back to the group to do a quick headcount and make sure nothing in the surrounding landscape was out of place. The grassy, open plain they were traveling on made him feel vulnerable and exposed, but he saw nothing over the grassy hill-lands following them. All the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, and Alison were accounted for, and Thorin noticed Alison riding with Bifur in comfortable silence. He was secretly relieved to see that she didn't look upset anymore. It seemed she had accepted what had happened and had moved on from it, choosing to let go of her grudge, which he found admirable. From his own limited experience with women (namely, his sister), he knew that they could hold on to things for a _very _longtime.

When the sun was beginning to descend from its high point in the clear sky, the Company stumbled onto a broken down, dilapidated farmhouse off the edge of the Road. Beyond the farmhouse was more forest, and even farther, some small rocky cliffs that provided a sharp contrast to the full green foliage around it.

Thorin took to the place instantly; the forest around them would provide apt cover should they have reason to flee, and the farmhouse was located far enough away from the Road where they wouldn't be easily visible to passersby, though he doubted there would be any; they were in the true Wild now, and there weren't a lot of folk who would fancy traveling through this place after dark.

"We'll camp here for the night," Thorin called to the Company, and he led the way off the Road up the grassy incline until they reached the ruined house. Everyone began to swing off their horses and unpack, and Thorin saw Gandalf walking over to the farmhouse, staff in hand and an expression on his face Thorin didn't like.

"Fili, Kili, look after the ponies," Thorin ordered his nephews, and they nodded, already unpacking their steeds. "Make sure you stay with them." He added sternly, since he knew that the two young princes weren't going to take their jobs seriously and would probably go off to spar, leaving their charges for a short while.

They nodded again, somewhat mischievously, and Thorin trailed after Gandalf, saying as he did so, "Óin, Glóin, get a fire going."

The two dwarves nodded and got to work as Thorin approached Gandalf, who had entered into the rundown house. "A farmer and his family used to live here…" the Wizard said to himself, and then turned around when he sensed Thorin's presence. "I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley."

"I've told you already," Thorin said irritably, recalling the numerous arguments and discussions he had had with the Wizard already about this matter. "I will not go near that place."

"Why not?" Gandalf said, his eyebrows drawing down over his piercing eyes. "The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice," Thorin said, scowling at the Wizard.

"We have a map we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help?" Thorin echoed, his voice venomous. Had Gandalf forgotten already what Thorin had told him of the Elves' treachery? "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls. The Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father?"

"You are neither of them," Gandalf said exasperatedly. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past."

"I did not know they were yours to keep," Thorin snapped, meeting the Wizard's gaze head on.

Gandalf's face twitched for a moment; he looked on the verge of arguing, but instead he whisked away, stalking off back down the grassy slope towards the Road in frustration. Thorin heard Bilbo's voice call out, "Everything all right? Gandalf? Where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," the Wizard shot over his shoulder.

"And who's that?"

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day." And at that, the Wizard disappeared from view. Thorin stared at the spot Gandalf had last been seen, feeling half-satisfied, half-frustrated.

"Come on, Bombur, we're hungry," Thorin said, as Bilbo asked "Is he coming back?"

No one answered him, for they didn't know themselves, and Thorin watched as everyone's supplies were laid out and Bombur began to cook with the fire Óin and Glóin had started.

Fili and Kili headed into the woods with the ponies, herding them into the trees, and not long after, Dwalin entered the forest with Alison, the burly Dwarf stalking ahead while the girl straggled after him, nearly having to jog to keep up with his brisk pace.

Thorin joined the Company by the fire, and as he sat down next to Balin and Bifur, that same nagging feeling started up again in his gut. As much as he didn't want to believe it, Thorin knew that something was bound to happen, and soon. With a sense of foreboding creeping into his mind, Thorin engaged Bifur in a conversation of Khuzdûl as the sun slipped farther and farther down to the horizon.

* * *

By the time they had settled for the night near the broken down farmhouse Thorin had led them to, Alison was feeling considerably better compared to last night.

Her short, slightly uncomfortable talk with Thorin in the pre-dawn light had lightened her spirit greatly; she had thought he would hate her forever, but he had found it deep, deep down in his stony heart to apologize for his behavior, and she had been grateful for that, though she still knew her actions had deserved to be reprimanded. She wasn't friends with Thorin by a long shot, but they had reached a shaky truce, and she would take that over his anger any day.

On the Road, she had preferred solitude, still exhausted from her jaunty dip in the river and ten times as sore as yesterday from all the swimming she had done, combined with her already-sore muscles from the archery training the day before.

Eventually, she had fallen into step with Bifur, and he had signaled to her the Iglishmêk gesture she had learned from him that first night they had communicated: _Are you all right?_

She nodded, smiling gently. "I'm all right," she said. "Are you?"

He had signaled back to her that yes, he was fine. After that, they had fallen into a comfortable silence, and Alison found that she enjoyed the wild-looking Dwarf's company. Though she had heard him to be fierce and volatile when riled up, he had a soft side to him that Alison found comforting and endearing, though she was slightly upset that she didn't have a way of speaking to him beyond those two gestures.

She told herself that she was going to ask Thorin if she could learn the Dwarvish language, and if not that, then at least the Iglishmêk so she could communicate more broadly with Bifur. After all, she would be sent back home to the mortal world after they completed their quest, so she wouldn't technically be intruding on their language if she didn't share it. And she never would; if she went around speaking Khuzdûl and signing the Iglishmêk, she'd be locked up in the nuthouse for sure.

Then another troubling thought had hit her; she would never be able to tell anyone what she was doing right now. No one would believe her, and if they did, she would be in a padded room for the rest of her life. No one would ever know what she was doing, what she had done when she returned home, not even her mother; though she was an Ashburne, she wasn't directly descended from Eleon, so she would never believe her, and Alison's father had never been summoned, so there was no way. She could tell Katie and Jace, her siblings, but when they grew up and left their childhood behind, they would think it was just some elaborate bedtime story she had made up. They would never know the truth; nobody, ever. This was her burden, and sorrow washed over her as she realized that. She would be alone in her knowledge in the mortal world, and that thought frightened and saddened her.

She had shaken it off, though, as they reached the farmhouse. This was only the beginning of her journey, and she still had months ahead of her to worry about that and figure it out. Right now, she had to focus on the present. And, unfortunately, that present involved Dwalin striding up to her after Gandalf had whisked away, his heavy eyebrows pulled into a glare and his mouth set in a displeased fashion.

"C'mon," he grunted, and without looking to see if she was following, he turned and strode towards the trees, where Fili and Kili had just disappeared with all of the ponies.

Dumping her unmade bedroll and blanket on the ground, she hurried after him, catching up to him just as they entered the tree-line. They walked for a few minutes until they came to a small, grassy clearing, and then Dwalin abruptly stopped walking and faced her.

"Take out your knife," he said, and she obeyed, fumbling a little as she pulled it out of its sheath. "Thorin wants you trained in different forms of combat. While Kili is teaching you to be a dainty little archer, I'll be instructing you on close-quarters combat. Got it?"

"Yeah," she said, trying not to let her nervousness get to her. Dwalin intimidated her enough as it is, despite Thorin's earlier words, and now close-quarters combat with him? She knew she'd probably end up with something broken by the end of the lesson.

"Grip you knife tightly in your hand," he said, and she did, glad that she was already somewhat familiar with the blade as she held it. "I'll be teaching you how to fight an opponent with one first, then later I'll teach you how to throw it. Now, there are several different ways to fight with a knife, depending on the kind of weapon your adversary has. Since swords are more commonplace, I will teach you how to fight against that weapon first. So, firstly…"

After twenty minutes of instruction and Dwalin snapping at her every time she messed up her stance, he finally found no flaws and began to teach her drills that would help her practice her moves. Since she was so small, he set her at a pace that would improve her reflexes and make her fast and nimble in her movements. Unfortunately, that pace was strenuous, and after only ten minutes, she was beginning to sweat, and the rapid pace was causing her to forget or mess up a move in the middle of a drill.

Whenever she screwed up, Dwalin would swoop down on her like a bird of prey, barking at her to fix her stance or to go back and re-do a certain move because she missed a step. After another half-hour of sweating and getting ordered at like a drill sergeant, Dwalin called for a break and she stopped moving, nearly keeling over at the stitch in her side as the sweat beads dripped down her face.

"Well," he said as she bent over, clutching her knees as she panted. "You aren't a huge disappointment. You pick up instructions quickly, and your movements are improving, though we still need to work on your speed and reflexes. Keep practicing those drills and we'll see how well you do next time." He started out of the clearing, but Alison held him back.

"Why don't you like me?" she blurted out, and the huge, rippling Dwarf stopped at the edge of the clearing, turning around to look at her in genuine, glowering surprise.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and she straightened up, sliding her knife back into her sheath and tightening her ponytail, which had come loose after flying around the clearing for an hour.

"I mean, you're always so…scowling. And…disapproving," she said, meeting his eyes boldly and trying not to back down from what she had started as he raised his bushy eyebrows. "And I know you probably don't want me here, and you think I'm a stupid, weak little girl with nothing to offer, and maybe you're right, but don't you think we should just…you know, at least have a mutual understanding of each other?"

"I never said I didn't like you, lass," he said, and she blinked in shock as he looked at her strangely. "If it were anywhere else but here, on this quest, I would like you a lot, but…" he shook his head. "I don't like what your presence here means for all of us, and, to be honest, nobody else is really comfortable with this, either. We like you well enough, but we don't know what in Mahal's name is going to happen to us now."

"Oh," she said, startled at his response. She had expected this tirade about how women are not fighters and shouldn't be on quests, but this was different. "Wow. Well, uh, thanks…for you know, being honest."

He inclined his head to her in a very Thorin-ly fashion, and she rubbed her slick palms on her jeans, not really knowing what to say to that anymore. "Well, I'm just going to um, cool down some," she said, gesturing to the trees behind her.

Dwalin nodded. "Don't wander too far. The sun will be gone in a few minutes, and this is an unfamiliar forest."

"Don't worry," she said as he disappeared into the trees, back towards the camp. "I'll…be fine." She stared at his retreating back until he was swallowed up by the woods. "Okay, then. Or you can just walk away mid-sentence. That's cool, too."

She sighed, running a hand over her sweaty, disgusting hair, and ventured out into the clearing, wondering if she could find Fili and Kili with the ponies. She hadn't spoken to them all day, and despite only knowing them for a few days at most, they both had already saved her life, and, on a less serious level, she enjoyed their companionship.

She heard the snorting and pawing of the ponies ahead, and she entered into another clearing, this one larger and darker than the one she had trained with Dwalin in. The ponies were corralled in a makeshift pen, all grazing and jostling each other, but there was no sign of Fili and Kili anywhere.

Alison huffed, crossing her arms. They had probably snuck off to do some manly—or Dwarfly?—bromance things, like hunting together in the moonlight. She snickered to herself at the thought, approaching the penned up horses and petting a pretty white one on the nose. It nickered softly at her touch, and soon all the other ponies were around her, all shoving one another to get in line for her touch, as well.

She giggled, scratching two of them under the chin at once, when suddenly her gut clenched in warning, almost like an instinctual thing. There was the sound of snapping and creaking twigs from behind her, and she whirled around as the ponies cried out in fear as the ground trembled beneath her like an earthquake—and she came face to face with a troll.

She somehow knew it was a troll just from one look; it was a huge, lumbering creature, wearing a scanty loincloth of rough brown material, and it looked down at her with stupid, beady eyes, its rock-like gray skin allowing it to blend in with the pale shadows of the night. The troll sniffed as Alison stood, paralyzed, and the troll reached over her head, grabbing up two of the ponies from the corral before bending down to examine her.

"What's this?" the troll said, and if the situation hadn't been so terrifying, Alison would've laughed at the troll's strong British-sounding accent. "You don't smell like 'orse. What are you, two-legs? A mutant deer?"

"I'm a _human," _she said, regaining her voice and composure and whipping out her knife. "And if you don't put those ponies back _right now,_ I'll gut you like a fish."

"Hmm," the troll smiled nastily, leaning in close to her face from his great height and sniffing again. "I don't think so, pretty. You smell nicer than these 'ere 'orses, and I think you'll suffice for at leas' a mouthful."

Alison jabbed her knife into the troll's face, but the giant creature just shrugged it off like it was nothing more than a toothpick as she recoiled, the blade dripping with a little bit of blood from the shallow cut she had made on his face.

"Mmm, I wonder if your flesh will taste as spicy as your attitude, pretty," the troll said, and in one fluent movement, he swiped her off her feet and she went flying, crashing into one of the trees it had uprooted and falling to the ground, dazed and dizzy.

Then one of its giant hands grabbed her up, squeezing her, and in the cloud of pain that erupted from the constriction of her torso, she fumbled and dropped her knife at the base of the tree. The troll chuckled to himself as he lumbered out of the clearing with her, and before she passed out from the painful grip of the troll's hand, she heard it say in its revolting accent, "Dinner is served."

* * *

"He's been a long time," Bilbo said worriedly, pacing up and down behind Bofur and Bombur as they served the rest of the Company dinner.

"Who?" Bofur said, as he ladled some stew into two bowls.

"Gandalf," Bilbo replied, his keen eyes searching through the dark to see if he would find some sign of the Wizard's return. He felt distinctly uncomfortable and anxious without the Wizard there.

"He's a Wizard, he does as he chooses," Bofur pointed out. "Here, do us a favor and take this to the lads," he gestured his head towards the trees, and Bilbo took that to mean Fili and Kili. Bilbo nodded, taking the bowls and heading for the woods. Halfway there, he crossed paths with Dwalin, but there was no sign of Alison behind the intimidating Dwarf.

"Where's Alison?" he asked Dwalin, and the burly Dwarf jerked his head.

"She stayed back for a minute. Needed to catch her breath."

He continued on back to the campsite, and Bilbo walked to the tree-line, trying not to slop stew on himself as he went. Though he thoroughly enjoyed Bombur's cooking, Bilbo couldn't help thinking of his own home-cooked meals in his cozy Hobbit-hole in the Shire, and, frankly, how he was very tired of eating stew almost every night.

The Hobbit came to a clearing where the ponies were tied up, and he saw Fili and Kili, their backs turned towards him as they gazed silently at something before them. Bilbo approached them cautiously. "What's the matter?"

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies," Kili said without turning around.

"Only we've encountered a…slight problem," Fili added.

"We had sixteen."

"Now there's fourteen."

The two brothers started towards the makeshift corral, and Bilbo followed them, a bad feeling creeping up his spine as they examined the pen. "Daisy and Bungle are missing," Kili observed, and then joined his brother as they searched around the clearing, Bilbo following in bafflement after them.

"What?" he said anxiously, still holding the bowls of stew. "Well, that's not good." Suddenly he glimpsed uprooted trees before them, and he spluttered, "And that's not good at all!"

"Fili," Kili said sharply, and the blonde dwarf prince went to his brother, along with Bilbo, who didn't know what else to do.

Kili held up a knife in his hand, the tip of the blade stained with blood. Bilbo felt his stomach curl looking at it, but somehow he couldn't make himself glance away.

"That's the knife I gave Alison," Fili said, taking it from his brother's fingers and examining it with a strange look on his face. "The blood's still fresh. She must be nearby. Wasn't she supposed to be with Dwalin?"

"He said she stayed behind for a breather," Bilbo piped up, and he saw Fili frown deeply and Kili's eyes flash.

"I'll be having a word with Mr. Dwalin once we find her," the younger Dwarf said, and there was a tense moment of silence.

"Um, shouldn't we tell Thorin about this?" Bilbo asked as Fili pocketed the knife, and the brothers ventured deeper into the woods, discovering more broken and uprooted trees.

"Oh, no," Fili said awkwardly, and Bilbo wondered where the two had been when all of this was happening. "Let's not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it."

"Well, uh…" Bilbo said, caught off guard for a second. "It looks like something big uprooted these trees."

"That was our thinking," Kili agreed, searching the ground for signs of tracks.

"Something very big," Bilbo went on nervously as he saw giant footprints in the soft earth before Kili. "And possibly quite dangerous."

"Hey!" Fili said suddenly, and Bilbo hurried over to him, still carrying the bowls of stew. "There's a light!" He gestured to Kili, who bounded over on Bilbo's other side as they crouched down behind the trunk of one of the uprooted trees.

"Stay down." Fili ordered.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked.

Through the trees, he could see the reddish-orange glow of a fire, and as he watched, he gulped as he saw huge, lumbering shadows thrown against the face of the cliffs beyond them. "Trolls," Kili growled, and Bilbo's suspicions were confirmed as the two brothers leaped over the tree trunk and sprinted deeper into the woods, towards the light.

Bilbo made after them, but stopped, hesitating. With an irritated huff, he went back for the bowls of stew, then ran after the two princes, carefully holding the bowls so they wouldn't spill.

As Bilbo ran after Fili and Kili, he saw them suddenly take shelter behind a tree as the ground began to shake violently. At the last second, Bilbo threw himself behind a wide trunk as a giant, fat troll appeared out of the trees, carrying a pony under each arm and making for the fire.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo whispered in indignation as the troll moved out of earshot. "I think they're going to eat them! We have to do something."

"Yes, you should!" Kili said, as if just realizing Bilbo was there. Bilbo started to protest, but Kili spoke over him. "Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small! They'll never see you." He deftly took a bowl from Bilbo's hands as the Hobbit objected, but it was like arguing with a wall from all the response he got. "It's perfectly safe! We'll be right behind you."

"If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, and once like a brown owl," Fili said, taking the other bowl from Bilbo as he said so. With a little push, Bilbo stumbled out of the close tree cover, freezing for a moment as his ears strained to hear what the trolls were doing in front of him.

"Twice like a barn owl…hoot twice like a brown owl, wait, no. Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, but when he turned around, the princes had gone. Bilbo suppressed a sigh, realizing he was on his own now. Not having much choice, and also curious and knowing he had to try at least scouting for a sign of the ponies and Alison, Bilbo crept towards the fire, the trolls grunting voices getting louder as he drew nearer.

Bilbo hid behind a tree near the edge of the clearing he saw before him, taking in the scene quickly. Three monstrous trolls sat around a large fire, a black iron cauldron big enough to fit at least three men inside simmering over the flames in front of them, while one stirred the contents with a large wooden spoon. Another one sat beside the fire, his mismatched eyes staring into the cauldron hungrily while the last, the one carrying the ponies, dropped them into an old, broken pen, and Bilbo guessed that it had been leftover from the farmer who used to live here. With a sinking feeling, Bilbo could imagine what had happened to the poor farmer.

The troll stirring the pot's contents sniffed distastefully as the other one came and sat down, saying, "Mutton yesterday, mutton today. And, blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow!"

"Quit your griping!" The one who had taken the horses snapped. "These ain't sheep. These are West Nads."

"Oh!" The third one, wearing a sort of vest thing, complained. "I don't like 'orse. I never 'ave. Not enough fat on them."

"Well, it's better than that leathery old farmer," the one at the pot said, and Bilbo realized that the troll was wearing a sort of apron, which would've been comical in any other predicament. "All skin and bones he was. I'm still picking bits of 'im out o' me teeth."

As the vested troll sneezed violently, apparently producing some sort of vile snot in the cauldron that the trolls began to argue over, Bilbo used their distraction to crawl over to the horses and began tugging at the ropes penning them in, all while keeping an eye out for Alison, who was nowhere to be found yet. Bilbo soon realized that the ropes were tied far too tightly for him to untie with his bare hands alone, but as the troll in the vest looked over to the pen and rose from his seat, Bilbo threw himself down to the ground, his heart pounding.

"I hope you're going to gut these Nads," the troll said, and Bilbo heard his voice coming nearer with a spike of fear. "I don't like the stinky parts."

Suddenly there was a loud clang, as if he had been hit over the head with a frying pan. As the troll yowled in pain, Bilbo peeked out from behind the pen and saw that that was exactly what had happened. "I said, sit down!" The third troll said, who was sharpening a knife on a large whet-stone as he yanked the other troll back into his seat. He turned to the cooking troll as the vested one started to puff on another sneeze. "I'm starving, are we 'aving 'orse tonight or what?"

"Shut your cake hole!" The cooking troll snapped. "You'll eat what I give ya!"

At that moment, the troll in the vest sneezed again, and as he removed a large, dirty handkerchief from his waist-belt, Bilbo saw a sharp blade of sorts, and instantly an idea formed in his head. Hoping against hope that this would work, the Hobbit crawled quickly and quietly on the ground until he reached the vested troll while the creatures all squabbled over what their food tasted like.

Bilbo froze as he heard the knife-sharpening troll's voice. "Me guts are rumbling. I got to snack on something. Flesh, I need flesh!" And as the troll shifted, Bilbo's heart stopped as he saw Alison behind the troll, tied to a tree with her head lolling on her chest; she was obviously unconscious.

"Look 'ere, you said you'd split 'er with us after dinner!" The cooking troll growled, and Bilbo knew he had to act now if he wanted to save Alison from being eaten. He reached for the troll's blade when there was another burst of short huffs, and suddenly Bilbo was snatched up into the vested troll's hand, where he was promptly sneezed on.

He tried not to gag as the troll looked at him in dumbfounded amazement, exclaiming, "Blimey! Bert! Bert, look what's come out of me 'ooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!"

"What is it?" The cooking troll asked in shock, as all three trolls crowded around to get a better look at the Hobbit, who had begun to squirm in the troll's hand.

"I don't know, but I don't like the way it wriggles around!" Bilbo was then unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and he struggled to his feet immediately as the knife-wielding troll held the blade to his chest.

"What are you then?" the troll named Bert demanded. "An oversized squirrel?"

"I'm a burglar—ah, Hobbit!" he said nervously, not being able to take his eyes off the blade pointed at his chest.

"A burglar-obbit?" The vested troll said in confusion.

"Can we cook him?" the cooking troll said, looking Bilbo up and down with hungry eyes.

"We can try!" the vested one said, and he made to snatch up Bilbo, but the Hobbit darted out of his reach, only to be stopped by Bert again.

"He wouldn't make more than a mouthful," he objected, pushing Bilbo back towards the fire. "Not when he's skinned and boned."

"Perhaps there's more of these burglar-obbits 'round these parts," the cook said thoughtfully. "Might be enough for a pie!"

The troll Bert reached for him, but Bilbo ducked under his hand, making for the edge of the clearing; he had to get back, he had to warn Thorin and the others! But his way was blocked as the cooking troll loomed in front of him, baring his flat teeth in a growl. "Come here, you little—"

Bilbo tried to make a run for it, but this time the troll anticipated his move and grabbed him by the legs, dangling him upside down. "Gotcha!" he said triumphantly. "Now, are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't?"

"No," Bilbo said, attempting to shake his head as all the blood rushed to his face from being upside down.

"He's lying!" the vested troll snarled, as Bilbo protested. "Hold his toes over the fire! Make him squeal!"

Suddenly a figure charged out of the trees, swinging a sword and slicing the troll on the back of his leg, causing him to howl in pain. Bilbo's heart leaped as he recognized Kili, the young Dwarf swinging his sword with a menacing flourish as he said, "Drop him!"

"You what?" the cooking troll said, staring at the dwarf prince in surprise.

"I said, drop him," he growled, and the troll obliged, tossing Bilbo to Kili, who caught him at the last second. As they both tumbled to the ground, there was a battle cry from the bushes behind them, and the Company all rushed out of the trees, weapons glinting in the firelight as the fight began.

* * *

**I know, I know, horrible place to end a chapter, but I don't like making super long chapters! So I just decided to cut this one shorter. Anyway, more POV? Yeah? Yeah. **

**Wow y'all don't even know how excited I am for the rest of this story. I consider everything after the trolls the "true" beginning to this story, and ughh I can't wait to write all of it! Excuse my moment, but I seriously cannot wait.**

**Thank you all for reading another chapter! I'm so grateful for all of your reviews and things, so, as always, please keep them coming!:) Until next time, lovelies! **


	9. 9: The Hunt

**Prepare yourself, readers. For this is another super long chapter. But I'm really excited for y'all to read it anyway! It gets pretty intense...**

**So here is Chapter 9! Hope y'all like it!:)**

* * *

Chapter Nine: The Hunt

When Alison came to, it took her a few moments to regain her senses, her mind still foggy from the swath of unconsciousness that clouded her mind. She was vaguely aware of a burning pain in her torso, and as she looked up, her mind had to process what she was seeing for a good long while until everything came flooding back to her.

She gasped, the world becoming clear and defined again as she realized she was tied to the base of a tree, rough bindings of rope cutting into her wrists, chest, and waist. Along with her newfound clarity, the pain in her torso from the troll's grip came rushing back, and she grit her teeth, feeling like her organs had been liquefied.

She struggled at the bindings, trying to wriggle free, but they were too strong. All she could do was watch in horror as one of the three trolls grabbed up Bilbo by his legs and held him upside down, questioning if there were any more of them hiding in the woods. To her intense relief, Bilbo remained loyal to the Company and said no, but the trolls weren't convinced, and they threatened to hold his toes over the fire until he talked.

Suddenly, Kili came whirling into the clearing, cutting one of the trolls on the back of the leg and ordering them to drop the Hobbit. _Poor word choice, _she thought, as the troll in the strange apron tossed Bilbo like a rag doll to Kili. Luckily, the dwarf prince caught the Hobbit, and as they went sprawling on the ground, there was a battle cry from the bushes, and Alison saw Thorin charge into the clearing, sword drawn, as the rest of the Company came after him, their own weapons gleaming as they engaged the trolls.

The clearing erupted into chaos, and there were yells and fearsome cries from the dwarves as they fought bravely against their opponents. Despite the trolls' size, they were slow and stupid, and the dwarves were too experienced to be caught by their great lumbering hands or stepped on by their clumsy feet.

Alison continued to fight and squirm against the ropes, grunting with the effort and wondering if the dwarves would ever notice her so they could set her free. Calling out for help was too risky; one of the trolls could hear her and would squash her like a bug, since she was defenseless and could be used as leverage. So she struggled in strained silence, ignoring the chafes and burns on her wrists as she tried to break free of her bonds.

"Having trouble?" A voice said from beside her, and she whipped around, seeing Fili kneeling down beside her. There was a great iron sword in his hands, splattered with flecks of troll blood, and he brought it down swiftly, cutting loose the bindings around her and helping her to her feet.

"Took you long enough," she grunted as she stood up, her insides still tight from the troll's grip. "Thanks, though," she said, as he handed her back her knife she had dropped when she was first taken.

He nodded once in reply, his eyes focused on the fight. "Stay here," he said, and before she could object, he rushed back into the fray, swinging his sword as he went to attack the fat, blundering troll who had kidnapped her.

Alison wanted to help, but she knew she would only just get in the way. But she had to do _something. _She cast her eyes desperately around the clearing; it seemed the dwarves were gaining the upper hand, but the trolls weren't tiring. Despite how outnumbered they were, the weapons were barely doing anything except annoying them, and Alison tried to recall this part from the book. Now that it had actually happened, she mentally kicked herself for forgetting this scene, and she tried to dredge up memories of this chapter in the book. How were they defeated?

But she couldn't remember, no matter how hard she tried. She remembered their names—William, Bert, and Tom—but other than that, her vision was stubbornly hazy. _So much for foresight, _she thought, and out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly saw Bilbo crawling over to a pen where four of their ponies were tied up, finding one of the troll's stray blades on the ground. Knowing what the Hobbit was trying to do, Alison skirted around the edge of the fray and sprinted over to where Bilbo was.

The Hobbit spun around as she approached, hefting the blade with difficulty, but he stopped when he realized it was just her. "Alison, thank goodness," he said in relief, as she moved to help him with the blade, which was as big as his body. "I'm glad you're all right." Alison wondered why the Hobbit was covered in thick, stringy goo that looked suspiciously like snot, but she decided to save that question for later as they hoisted the blade up to the pen ropes.

"I wouldn't go that far," she said as they began to move in unison, cutting the blade along the ropes on the pony pen. Every sawing movement jarred her stiff and aching body, and when the ropes were finally sliced and the ponies set free, she and Bilbo dropped the knife, catching their breath after their laborious effort of using the giant blade.

Alison thought they were in the clear—the sounds of battle were dying down—until Bilbo was suddenly lifted into the air with a cry of surprise from beside her. "Bilbo!" she said, reaching for the knife she had foolishly replaced in her boot, but her movement was cut short as a meaty hand gripped her ponytail and yanked her up. She cried out at the pain, feeling as if her scalp was being peeled from her skull, but she was soon shifted into another position as the troll who had grabbed her held onto her arms instead, letting the rest of her body dangle almost eight feet off the ground.

"Bilbo! Alison!" She heard Kili's voice from below her, and she looked down, seeing all the dwarves facing her and the trolls and Bilbo from the other side of the clearing. Kili started forward, raising his sword, but Thorin held him back with a firm "No."

Kili gave his uncle a disbelieving look as the troll with the apron—she guessed was William—said in a smug voice, "Lay down your arms! Or we'll rip theirs off!" He jerked one of Bilbo's arms in his hand to emphasize his words, while the one wearing the vest—Tom? Or Bert?—giggled stupidly as he held onto Bilbo's other arm.

Alison saw all the dwarves gazing from them to Thorin, who stood still, his face expressionless. The troll holding her shook her slightly, as if to mock the dwarf king, and slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his sword and stabbed it into the ground. The Company all looked to him incredulously, but they soon realized that there was no other choice if they wanted to keep two of their members alive. With grumbles of anger, they too dropped their weapons, glaring at the trolls with murderous expressions.

Alison knew how hard Thorin's decision must've been, and she was grateful that he had chosen to protect them instead of letting their arms part with their bodies, but Alison was furious at the trolls, and herself for getting caught by the great oafs. So when the trolls ordered the dwarves to strip down to their underclothes, she began to go off, swearing and cursing at the trolls so much her mother would've shoved a bar of soap down her throat if she had heard the kind of language she was using.

The trolls, annoyed by her incessant cursing, finally gagged her with a foul-smelling piece of cloth, and she was the first one to be dumped into a moldy, rotten sack and tossed to the ground, where she was quickly joined by the other sacked Company of Bilbo, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Óin, Balin and Bombur. All the other dwarves were tied head to foot on a spit and were promptly hoisted over the fire in the center of the clearing, all of them shouting insults at the trolls as they were slowly roasted over the flames in their underclothes.

"Don't bother cooking 'em!" The vested troll with the crossed eyes complained. "Let's just sit on 'em and squash 'em into jelly!"

"They should be sautéed and grilled, with a sprinkle of sage," William, the cook, argued as him and the other one—Alison assumed that one was Bert—rotated the giant spit with their hands.

"Never mind the seasoning," Bert growled. "We ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away, let's get a move on; I don't fancy being turned to stone!"

Bilbo, who had been struggling near Alison in his sack, suddenly froze, and she met the Hobbit's eyes widely, now remembering the trolls' weakness. She saw the idea forming in Bilbo's gaze, and she nodded vigorously to him, not having her mouth available to say anything. The Hobbit steeled himself, and she nodded encouragingly.

"Wait!" he said, and the trolls looked to the Hobbit with disdainful expressions. "You are making a _terrible _mistake!"

"You can't reason with them, they're half-wits!" Dori called from the spit before he was turned out of sight.

"Half-wits?" Bofur echoed, as he too went spinning by on the spit. "What does that make us then?"

"I meant with the uh, with the seasoning," Bilbo said, undeterred from the dwarves' comments. With difficulty, he got to his feet, hopping towards the trolls in his sack.

"What about the seasoning?" William said, eyeing the Hobbit distrustfully.

"Well, have you smelt them?" Bilbo said, gesturing with his head towards the dwarves on the ground. "You're going to need something a lot stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

All the dwarves began to yell angrily at the Hobbit, with Glóin exclaiming, "Traitor!" and Alison rolled her eyes, sighing out through her nose.

"What do you know about cooking Dwarf?" Bert asked suspiciously, still turning the spit. But William abandoned his post, leaning in closer to the Hobbit with an eager gleam in his eyes.

"Shut up," he said. "Let the uh, flurgeburberer-hobbit talk."

"The secret to cooking Dwarf is…" Bilbo trailed off, obviously not have thinking this far ahead as he paused, looking around frantically as the dwarves and trolls watched him in silence.

"Yes? C'mon," William said impatiently.

"Yes, yes, I'm telling you!" Bilbo said hastily, his eyes still darting around. Alison watched with bated breath, noticing how the edges of the sky were beginning to turn pink. _Come on, Bilbo, _she thought desperately as the Hobbit floundered for a moment. "The secret is…to…skin them first!" he said, and the dwarves broke into an angry tirade again as Bilbo rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Tom, get me filletin' knife," William said, holding out his hand as the vested troll went to retrieve the object.

"What a load of rubbish!" Bert objected from his place by the spit. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scoff 'em, I say, boots and all!"

"He's right," Tom said, abandoning his task of getting the filleting knife and stalking over to the Dwarf pile on the ground. "Nothing wrong with a bit o' raw Dwarf!" The troll picked up Bombur from the ground and dangled him above his mouth, the great ginger Dwarf squirming in his hand. "Nice and crunchy…" Tom said, lowering his hand to where Bombur was almost in mouth-range.

"No, not that one! He…he's infected!" Bilbo said in a panic, and the troll looked at him in horror.

"You what?" Bert said.

"Yeah, he's got, worms, in his…tubes," Bilbo said desperately, and Tom dropped Bombur in disgust, backing away quickly. "In—in fact, they all have, they're infested with parasites. It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites?" Óin said angrily. "Did he say parasites?"

"Yeah, I don't have parasites, you have parasites!" Kili shouted, and Alison knew the time had come for her to get involved, since apparently no one was going to catch on. As the trolls looked on suspiciously at Bilbo, Alison rolled in her sack until she knocked against Thorin, meeting his gaze beseechingly and making frantic noises from underneath her gag. The dwarf king stared at her uncomprehendingly, and she started to gesture using her head, first towards Bilbo, then to the lightening dawn sky.

Finally, understanding dawned in his eyes, and with difficulty, he kicked Kili in the back. The young Dwarf looked to him, outraged, but then he read the look in his uncle's eyes, along with everybody else. Comprehension broke over them, too, and Óin turned to look at the trolls. "I've got parasites as big as my arm!" he said.

"Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got huge parasites!" Kili added, and soon all the dwarves were in on it, shouting things like "We're riddled! Yes, we are riddled, we are, badly!"

The trolls looked on in disgusted suspicion. "What would you have us do then?" William asked Bilbo. "Let 'em all go?"

"Well…" Bilbo said, and William poked him in the chest, hard, as anger filled his eyes.

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" the troll said, and the Company looked on in fear. "This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?" Bilbo repeated in indignation, as Bert said, "Fools?"

And suddenly, a figure emerged from the trees to stand tall on a boulder outlying the clearing, and Alison felt her heart leap as she recognized Gandalf.

"The dawn will take you all!" the Wizard said in his booming voice, and the trolls turned to look at the newcomer in surprise.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

With a powerful strike, Gandalf brought down his staff on the rock, and there was a splintering crack as the boulder snapped in half, allowing bright dawn sunlight to pour forth into the clearing. Alison closed her eyes against the sudden blinding light, and when she opened them again, she saw the trolls had been turned to stone, forever stuck in the various forms they had been standing in when the rays had hit them.

All the dwarves began to cheer, and Alison would have joined in, but considering she was still gagged, she had no choice but to lie there silently and watch as Gandalf freed the dwarves on the spit, then moved over to their group on the ground.

When Alison was released from the foul sack, she immediately ripped the gag out of her mouth and began to spit and rub her tongue on her sleeve, trying to get the horrid taste and stench out of her mouth.

A few minutes later, when she had done the best she could but knowing she'd have that taste in her mouth for days afterwards, she stood up from the ground and went over to Gandalf, who was counting off the dwarves with his hand. Alison averted her eyes as the dwarves redressed, already having enough mental scars from watching the trolls make them strip down in the first place.

"You came back," she said, striding up to the Wizard and standing beside him. Gandalf looked down at her with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

"I thought you knew that," he said, obviously referring to her supposed "foresight", and Alison shifted under his gaze.

"Gandalf, I barely remember this story," she reminded him. "The last time I read it I was still in elementary school. You can't expect me to remember the book cover to cover."

"Which is why I instructed you to read it when we first met," he said, somewhat sternly, and she sighed.

"Yeah, but was I really going to listen to some weird old man at a bus stop?" she said half-jokingly.

"Well, what does it matter," Gandalf said, turning away from her. "You're here in the story now, and it seems we'll have to play it by ear. Though I trust you'll still work with the memories you do have?"

She nodded, not having any time to reply with something more as Thorin came up to them then, fortunately back in his armor and clothes. Alison avoided his eyes, fighting hard against the laughter threatening in her chest; she had watched, in a kind of horrified trance, as all the dwarves had been forced to remove their clothes and armor, and despite how mortifying the whole situation had been, she still couldn't get the image of the great and fearless Thorin Oakenshield in his skivvies out of her head.

Thorin shot her a glare before turning to Gandalf, as if knowing what she was thinking, and threatening if she ever breathed a word of what had happened he would personally see to her demise.

"Where did you go, if I may ask?" The dwarf king asked Gandalf, who had been studiously observing the stone trolls during Thorin and Alison's silent exchange.

"To look ahead," the Wizard replied, giving a sharp rap on the one who had been Tom's head with his staff.

"What brought you back?"

"Looking behind," Gandalf said, and Thorin nodded, as if expecting this sort of answer. "Nasty business," the Wizard continued, looking around the clearing. "But still they are all in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar," Thorin said, raising an eyebrow.

"He had the nous to play for time," Gandalf said, and Thorin looked away from his stern gaze. "None of the rest of you thought of that."

There was a weighty silence between the three until Gandalf broke it once more. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors," he said, examining the trolls intently.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin asked.

"Oh, not for an age," the Wizard said, his eyebrows contracting. "Not since a darker power ruled these lands." Gandalf fell silent, thinking for a moment. "They could not have moved in daylight," he said, almost to himself.

"There must be a cave nearby," Thorin said, and as if they had rehearsed it, the Wizard and the dwarf king moved off in search of it at once. "Dwalin, Nori, Bofur, Glóin," Thorin called, jerking his head as he moved out of the clearing, and the three dwarves followed him. "The rest of you get our supplies from the campsite."

Alison watched the small party disappear, vaguely miffed Thorin hadn't chosen her to come along, since she had been standing right there. But she followed the others back to the campsite to collect their things nonetheless.

As they moved their bedrolls and things back to the clearing where the trolls had been, the sun climbed higher into the sky, and Alison felt fatigue pulling at her. Despite her brief unconscious spell, she was tired from lack of sleep and dreadfully sore from the night's events, and as they went off in search of the troll hole, she felt as if she were walking with cement blocks stuck to her feet.

Eventually, the Company found the troll hole, mostly from its horrible stench, and they set up watch outside of it, waiting for the party that had gone in to come back out. Alison sank to the ground stiffly, propping herself against a small boulder and resting her back into it, wishing she could just sleep and sleep the day away. But knowing Thorin's tactics, they were bound to be moving on soon, so she had to keep herself awake.

A few minutes later, a figure slid down to the ground beside her, and she looked over to see Bilbo propped up next to her. His face was dirty and sweat-streaked, and dried troll snot encrusted him head to foot. Alison felt a strong maternal instinct rise up within her, and she licked her thumb, using it to wipe a smear of dirt from the Hobbit's face.

He gave her a weird look, trying to pull away, but she shot him a fierce glare and said, "Don't move." So he obeyed, waiting patiently as she finished wiping the dirt from his face.

"Um, what exactly was the point of that?" he said in bewilderment.

Alison shrugged, not at all bothered by the Hobbit's reaction; honestly, he was so small and adorable she had to keep reminding herself that he was older than her, in his fifties, at least, and not a tiny little Hobbit who needed a mother to look after him. "I don't know. My mom used to do it to me when I was younger. I guess that sort of maternal instinct just came out in me right now."

"Oh," he said, and she was pleased to hear that he didn't sound so baffled anymore. "Do you miss her? Your mother?"

"Of course," she said. "It's hard, knowing that she's literally another world away, not even aware that I'm gone. And it's frightening, knowing that I possibly couldn't come back to her. But I know she would always want me to do what I think is right, and this…this feels right. I know I'm meant to do this. Not just because the Valar have assigned me to it, but because I also know that I need to do this for myself, as well. And I know she would understand my decision, but I still do miss her and my brother and sister very much. So…" she shrugged, meeting the Hobbit's eyes.

"You're very brave doing this, you know," he said. "If I thought leaving my home behind was hard, I know it is nothing compared to the sacrifice you had to make, leaving your family and your world behind."

Alison smiled embarrassedly. "You make me sound so noble."

"You are," he said seriously, and Alison felt a glow of gratitude run through her. She didn't care if the Company had reservations regarding Bilbo's capabilities; there was a certain sense of _good _in the Hobbit Alison was growing fond of, and she knew that he had a lot more to offer on this quest than everyone else thought, including himself.

The party from the troll cave reappeared from the hole, coughing and gagging from the smell as they stepped out into the fresh air. Thorin and Gandalf brought up the rear, and Alison saw a dusty, cob-webbed sword in Thorin's hand that she assumed with a slight shock was Orcrist, remembering the blade from the book. Gandalf carried a sword as well, Glamdring, she recalled, yet he was also holding a much smaller sword, almost like a larger knife, in his hands, and he made his way over to Bilbo and Alison.

"Bilbo," Gandalf said, holding out the short sword, and Bilbo took it curiously, not seeming to realize its purpose in his hands yet. "Here, this should be about your size."

Bilbo suddenly looked at the blade in his hands with a deep frown and a faint expression. "No, I—I can't take this, Gandalf," he said, trying to give back the dagger, but Gandalf shook his head.

"The blade is of Elvish-make, which means it will glow blue when Orcs or goblins are nearby," the Wizard said, looking to the blade in its fine leather sheath.

Bilbo looked to the dagger again, still frowning. "I have…I have never used a sword in my life."

"And I hope you never have to," Gandalf said, his blue eyes serious and solemn as he met Bilbo's gaze. "But if you do, remember this: true courage is knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one."

Alison watched as Bilbo looked troubled, but he kept the sword in his hands, looking back down to it. In a strange sort of way, Alison felt a flicker of jealousy that the Hobbit had gotten a magical Elven blade when she was stuck with a plain old iron knife.

She didn't dwell on it for long though, for suddenly there was a loud crashing noise in the trees around them, and the Company were instantly on their feet, weapons drawn and bodies tense as Thorin shouted, "Something's coming!"

Gandalf straightened up, his gaze alert, and Bilbo said, "Gandalf—" but the Wizard had already drawn Glamdring, rushing off towards the sound, saying, "Stay together! Hurry, now! Arm yourselves!"

Bilbo drew his dagger slowly, gazing at the fine silver blade with Elvish runes curving down it, and Alison drew her knife. "Bilbo, come on!" she said, rushing off after the others, and a few seconds later she heard the Hobbit running behind her as they chased after the others.

The Company came to a stop on the top of a grassy ridge, weapons at the ready, and Alison sank into the position Dwalin had taught her last night, her legs slightly bent, ready to spring into action and the blade gripped tightly in her hand. She felt a bit stupid doing it at first, but as the crashing noise got closer, she realized how serious the situation actually was, and all shreds of humor disappeared as she concentrated.

The noise was right on top of them, and Alison began to hear a voice yelling, "Thieves! Fire! Murder!" She wondered what was going on, when suddenly a sleigh, pulled by—were those _bunny rabbits?_—barreled into the clearing they were standing in, and as Alison took in the sleigh driver, she knew that she had never seen a more bizarre man in her life.

He was an older man, dressed in ragged and frayed brown robes with a large patched-up hat to complete his get-up. His hair was wild and tangled, as if he had stuck his finger into an electric socket for fun, and something that looked suspiciously like bird poop was caked on one side of his face and hair. Even his eyes shone with a manic light, and Alison was taken completely aback as Gandalf approached the man, saying, "Radagast. It is Radagast the Brown."

Alison and Bilbo exchanged a glance, both of their expressions reading, _This was the Wizard Radagast? _But as Alison looked back to the man, she realized that this had to be the Brown Wizard, for he carried a staff topped with a dark blue crystal much as Gandalf did.

Gandalf stepped towards Radagast, his expression bewildered as he said, "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, Gandalf," the Brown Wizard said, and Gandalf raised his eyebrows at the other Wizard's frantic voice. Alison looked around the clearing, noticing how everyone had stood down, though they kept their weapons out. Alison pulled out of her crouch, taking her usual stance as she focused back in on what the Wizards were saying.

"Something's wrong," Radagast was saying, wringing his hands. "Something is terribly wrong!"

"Yes?" Gandalf prompted, as Radagast cut off what he was saying.

Radagast went to speak, then stopped again, his face pulling into a strange, faraway look. Alison was wondering if the Wizard was quite all there in the head as he said in frustration, "Just give me a minute. Um…oh! I had a thought and now I've lost it! It was, it was right there on the tip of my tongue!" Suddenly the Wizard stopped speaking again, and his face went slack. "Oh," he said, and his voice came out garbled, as if he weren't moving his tongue. "But it's not a thought at all. It's a silly old…" and he stuck out his tongue, revealing a thin brown bug on it. "Stick insect."

Alison felt a tug at the back of her throat as Gandalf, with a look of mild distaste, pulled the stick creature out of Radagast's mouth, and then placed it into Radagast's palm as the Brown Wizard looked at it and cooed.

Gandalf cleared his throat, interrupting the other Wizard's doting. "You were saying, Radagast?"

The Brown Wizard glanced covertly around at the Company, his eyes suspicious, and Gandalf said, "Come, Radagast. You can tell me about your, er…problem down here." And the two Wizards stepped out of the clearing and walked further into the trees until they were hidden from sight.

"Well, that wasn't weird at all," Alison said into the silence, and the Company let out some snickers, the tension diffusing a bit. Alison perched herself on a mossy boulder nearby and sighed, a sharp pang of hunger gnawing at her stomach now and making her feel worse than she had before.

"Here," a voice said, and she glanced up from examining her knife blade to see Kili in front of her, holding out a chunk of bread. She accepted it gratefully as he came and sat down beside her, having to shift all of his weapons in order to sit comfortably.

"How did you know I was hungry?" she asked, taking a bite out of the bread; it was dry and tasteless, but it was still food nonetheless, and she devoured it in a couple of minutes.

"Considering you were tied to a tree, about to be eaten yourself all night, I figured you would be," he said, and he stared off into space as he said it, a frown pulling on the corners of his mouth.

Alison swallowed the last of her bread, watching the young dwarf prince curiously. "Are you all right? You seem…upset."

"You could say that," he said, a little bit bitterly, and she looked at him closer. It wasn't in Kili's nature to be so serious.

"Talk to me, Kili," she said, shifting on the rock so she faced him completely. "You're worrying me."

"I just…feel stupid," he said, and she raised her eyebrows. "How come?"

"Fili and I went off to spar," he said reluctantly, still refusing to look at her still. "And I feel like it's my fault you were taken by that horrid troll. If we had listened to Thorin when he said to stay with the ponies, if we had been there when you showed up, we could've stopped the troll from taking you. And I can't stop thinking that what if we had been too late? What if we had taken too long to get the others and come after you? You could've died. And I can't stop thinking about that."

They were silent for a moment, and Kili picked up a twig, peeling off its bark in a bitter sort of way. Alison was shocked; did Kili really value her safety and well-being that much? I mean, they were friends, and they were companions on the same quest… _Don't be stupid, _she thought. _He would've done the same for anyone in the Company. Don't feel all high and mighty._

"Look at me," she said finally, and he did, dropping the twig and meeting her eyes. They were dark and serious, even in the late morning sunlight filtering through the trees, and she smiled gently. "I'm not upset or anything. You're acting like you deserve to be punished for something _I _did. I was the one who was stupid enough to get caught in the first place. You're not being there had nothing to do with my idiocy. So, seriously, please stop beating yourself up over it. I'm fine, we came out of it alive, and everything's okay now. All right?"

"But—" he tried to say, and Alison held up her hand.

"Stop it," she said firmly. "There will be no self-deprecating allowed anymore, got it?"

"Fine," he said, and though he looked better, his eyes were still troubled.

"If you need me to slap a smile onto your face, I will," she said, holding up her hand, and at that, he did smile, shaking his head.

"You have an interesting way of showing affection," he said, and she grinned mischievously.

"Just wait," she said. "It only gets better from here."

He laughed at that, and Alison smiled too, relieved she could ease his conscience. She glanced around the clearing, and her eyes landed on Fili. The fair-haired Dwarf was watching the two of them, a weird expression on his face, but when he caught Alison's eye, he smiled and waved normally, and she waved back, choosing to ignore the feeling that had awakened in her gut at his look.

Suddenly a howl tore through the serene morning, very close by, and Kili leaped to his feet, bow at the ready, and Alison scrambled off the rock behind him, raising her knife.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo asked into the silence that had befallen the clearing. Gandalf and Radagast appeared out of the trees, Gandalf tucking a wrapped, thin package of sorts into his cloak as they looked around, Gandalf drawing his new sword. "Are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" Bofur said, and he looked around the trees warily, his battle axe gripped tightly in his hands. "No, that is not a wolf."

A deep, vibrating growling reverberated very close by, and Alison recognized the noise instantly, feeling her blood freeze in her veins. Out of nowhere, a great black-furred Warg leaped out of the trees, snarling, and Thorin cut it down in two clean strokes, wielding the curved blade of Orcrist with flawless technique.

Another snarl sounded from across the clearing, and another Warg lunged out of the foliage, its jaws snapping at Nori, but Kili let an arrow fly, piercing the Warg's side. As the creature tumbled onto its side, Dwalin finished it off with a savage blow to its neck, and Alison heard the sound of the blade crushing bone that set her teeth on edge.

"Warg scouts!" Thorin said, flicking blood off his sword. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind!"

"Who did you tell of your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf demanded.

"No one," Thorin said.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf thundered, his voice tight with anger.

"No one, I swear!" Thorin said, and Alison saw the dwarf king's eyes flash menacingly. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted," Gandalf said gravely.

"We have to get out of here!" Dwalin said, shouldering his supply bag, but Ori appeared at the top of the ridge, his eyes wide and panicked.

"We can't," he said. "We have no ponies. They bolted!"

Alison felt her heart sink, until Radagast piped up from behind the Company. "I'll draw them off," the Brown Wizard said, and Gandalf looked to him skeptically.

"These are Gundabad Wargs," he said. "They will outrun you."

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits," Radagast replied confidently. "I'd like to see them try."

* * *

The Company stood silently in the shadows of the trees, waiting tensely for their cue to begin running. They were leaving the thick tree cover of the forest behind, and ahead of them stretched an empty golden plain, interrupted here and there by sparse mounds of large gray boulders.

Alison's heart pounded in her chest, and she gripped her knife tightly, sweat slicking her palm and making it hard to hold onto. Ever since the first Warg had appeared, and it became apparent that there was an Orc pack on their tail, Alison had a sickening realization of what they were after, and she knew that Thorin knew, as well. She had to talk to him. She had to tell him her plan.

At that moment, Radagast broke free of the tree line half a mile to their left, riding his rabbit-pulling sleigh as at least a dozen Wargs tore after him, about half of them with Orc riders on their backs. They were too far away to see clearly, but Alison could see the gleam of their wicked weapons and the malicious profiles of their bodies, some ranging from skinny and vicious to downright giant and nightmarish.

As they whisked out of view, Gandalf said, "Come on!' and sprinted out of the trees, the Company close behind as they began their sprint across the plains. Alison felt horribly exposed without the tree cover, and the sun beat down on them harshly, hindering their eyesight and making them overheated as they ran in their clothes and armor, with their heavy weapons in hand and supplies bouncing on their backs.

They reached the first cluster of boulders and hid behind it with no problem, catching their breath, and were about to go again when Radagast whizzed by, far too close for comfort, leading the hunting party after him. Luckily, none of the Orcs or Wargs noticed them, but they had to wait for them to move far enough out of range again. Alison saw her chance, and she sprinted to Thorin's side in the front.

"What are you doing?" he hissed as she neared him. "You're supposed to be with Bofur and Nori."

"Thorin, listen to me," she said, ignoring him. "This hunting party isn't after all of you, it's after me. Listen, _listen," _she pleaded, as he opened his mouth, his eyes flashing. "You know it's true, you know it is, which is why you have to let me lead them away from you."

His mouth froze around the words he was going to say, and she pressed on before he could get over his shock and speak over her. "They're after me, and you know it. Someone knows about my arrival and my purpose, and that someone wants to stop me, either by killing me or taking me prisoner. Let me go, let me draw them away from you so you all can get to safety. Please, Thorin, it's me they want, not you. Let me go."

"You are a part of this Company now, Miss Ashburne," Thorin said furiously, his eyes boring into hers. "And we do not leave people behind. Now is not the time to play the part of hero, and you are going to stay with this group and you are going to follow me, understood?"

Alison opened her mouth to argue, but Gandalf gestured for them to start moving again, and Thorin sprinted after the Wizard with a last warning glance over his shoulder. Alison thought about just making a run for it, but that idea was quickly squashed as Fili grabbed her wrist and dragged her along with him, as if he had guessed her motives.

Accepting defeat, Alison swallowed her words and raced behind Fili, his hand still clamped around her wrist as they ran across another stretch of plain. Radagast and the hunting party neared them again, and they ducked behind another pile of boulders. "Ori, no, get back!" Thorin snarled, as Ori almost toppled into view of the Orcs, and he pulled the young Dwarf roughly back into cover.

They watched as Radagast and the Orcs shrank farther away down the plain, and Thorin looked to Gandalf. "Where are you leading us?"

Gandalf looked down at Thorin, not replying, just ordering them to stick together and move quickly as they dashed out from behind their hiding place and made for another large boulder rising up about halfway down the plain.

As they ran, the Orcs neared them again, still being led on by Radagast, but Alison saw one of the riders slow down, sniffing and gazing in their direction. "Thorin!" she gasped. "I think one of them sees us!"

"Keep moving!" he ordered, and they flat out sprinted to the giant boulder as thudding footsteps could be felt coming closer. They threw themselves against the boulder, pressing their backs into the rock, and Fili pushed Alison close behind him, his arm secured across her waist in a move that could only be described as "soccer mom-ing."

The Company held their breath as huge paws jumped up onto the boulder, nails scraping the stone as the Warg sniffed, growling low in its chest, sensing their presence. A couple places down from Alison, she saw Thorin gesture with his head to Kili and his bow, who was standing beside him.

Kili acknowledged his uncle with a glance, and silently, pulled an arrow out of his quiver, fitting it to the bow string. He heaved a breath to steel himself, and then he ran out from the boulder, taking aim above and shooting the Warg. The creature snarled, its claws scrabbling on the stone as it fell down before them, and Bifur and Bofur quickly disposed of it with their weapons.

The Orc, shrieking a battle cry, grabbed its crude blade off the ground and charged at Kili, who shot another arrow into the grotesque creature's shoulder. Thorin and Dwalin drew their weapons and attacked the Orc, knocking it down and stabbing and beating it as the creature howled and screeched, the sound grating on Alison's eardrums.

They were making far too much noise; the hunting party was bound to hear them, but Alison watched in horrified fascination as the Orc was slain by Thorin and Dwalin, black drops of Orc blood spattering the ground at her feet. Her stomach roiled, but she kept it together as Dwalin polished off the Orc.

"Move! Run!" Gandalf cried, as the sounds of howling and shrieking drew nearer, and as the Company ran for it, Alison saw the hunting party on their tails, a dozen Wargs and riders chasing after them across the plains.

"There they are!" Glóin yelled, as the riders caught up to them, closing in on their prey.

"Quickly! This way!" Gandalf shouted, and he pointed to a large spire of rock reaching high into the air about a quarter of a mile in front of them. Through her terrified haze, Alison wondered what that rock could possibly do for them, but she continued towards it anyway, right behind Fili. She stumbled, her legs burning and her chest heaving, but Fili's hand slipped from her wrist and grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly and steadying her.

They made it to the rock, and there the fighting started. Alison saw Óin and Nori take down an Orc and Warg, breaking bones and smashing heads with their axes, and Dwalin swinging his two humongous battle axes, bringing down another Warg and then impaling the rider with the blade-like gauntlets and wrist-covers he wore on his lower arm.

Fili brandished his sword beside her, deftly moving in front of her while keeping a tight grip on her hand. She understood what he was trying to do; he was trying to keep her out of the Orcs' sight for as long as possible.

Alison saw Kili sprinting back towards the group, shouting, "There's more coming!" before swinging around and readying his bow.

The Orcs closed in, menacing and vile, and Alison knew that for as long as she lived, she would never see anything as disgustingly horrifying as them as they ambled closer, their beady eyes sparking evilly and sadistic smiles crossing their oozing mouths.

"Kili, shoot them!" Thorin said, and Kili obeyed, launching arrows at any Orc who came near. The other dwarves joined in, engaging the hunting party, but Alison was afraid, for they were outnumbered greatly by the other rider-less Wargs.

"We're surrounded!" Dori cried, and Alison saw him swinging a whip of some sorts with a sharp blade attached to the end of it, keeping a Warg at bay.

"Where's Gandalf?" Fili said, and Alison looked around, realizing that the Wizard had gone.

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin snarled as he cut down another Warg.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin roared, raising his sword as he faced the approaching hunting party.

The Orcs closed in, and directly in front of Alison and Fili, a rabid Warg was creeping closer, bearing a fearsome rider upon its back. The Orc was smaller than most of the others, but he was still terrifying, wearing a horrible barbed collar bristling out of his back and shoulders, and from the way he carried himself and the wicked spear in his hand, Alison guessed he was the leader.

The Orc leered at her from astride his beast, his black tongue rolling over his lips, and Alison shuddered as Fili stiffened, his muscles coiled as he sank into a battle stance. Ori suddenly appeared out of nowhere, using a slingshot to ward off the Orc, but the stone bounced harmlessly off of the Warg's head, just making it angrier.

Ori backed away, and Alison gripped his elbow as Fili pushed her behind him, letting go of her hand as he said "Go, Alison, Ori."

"Fili—" she said, but he barked, "Go!" once more, without taking his eyes off of the Orc.

Suddenly, Alison heard Gandalf's voice from behind them. "This way, you fools!" She turned, seeing the Wizard appearing out of a hole in the rock, and the dwarves began running, not having any other choice besides being run down by Orcs.

Bofur disappeared into the rock first, followed by Bilbo, and Alison ushered Ori towards the rock. "Fili, come on!" she said. But the dwarf prince ignored her, still focused on the Orc, who cackled maliciously as his gaze lingered on her again. She felt her skin crawl, but then her heart stopped as the Warg suddenly leaped for Fili.

"Fili!" she screamed, as he brought the blade down on the beast's side. The Warg roared in pain, but it stayed upright, and Alison saw the Orc snarling, raising its spear as Fili staggered back from the Warg's momentum, his sword swinging wildly as he tried to regain his stance.

Without thinking, Alison raised her knife, and a red-hot wave of fury washed over her as the Orc raised its arm for the killing blow. Alison let the knife fly, not even stopping to think of her actions, and the blade knocked into the Orc's spear-hand, slicing it shallowly across the wrist, but it was enough to distract the Orc long enough for Kili to slash with his sword, sending the Warg rearing away with the Orc snarling in fury, its eyes burning into Alison.

Not having any time to process what she had just done or to go back and retrieve her knife, Fili turned and shoved her and Ori in front of him as they raced towards the rock, Thorin yelling, "Move, quickly! All of you, go!"

Ori dove in to the hole in the rock, sliding down a steep incline, and Alison quickly followed, scraping her hands and snagging on rocks as she tumbled down, Fili right behind her. A few seconds later, Kili came flying down into the cavern-like place they were standing in, with Thorin being the last one to enter behind him.

The Company all stood together in the cavern, listening as the Orcs drew closer, but suddenly, a clear, piercing noise that sounded like a hunting horn blew across the plain, and then there was the sound of many hoof beats and the twanging of bows. Startled cries and hisses echoed from the Wargs and Orcs, and suddenly, an Orc toppled into the cavern, tumbling to a messy stop at the Company's feet, an arrow protruding from its heart. When it was clear the Orc was dead, Thorin bent down and removed the arrow from its chest, gazing at it before scowling and throwing it down in disgust. "Elves." He said.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" Dwalin called from further down the cavern. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur said, and he started hurriedly down the pathway, the others following behind without argument.

Alison leaned against the back wall, her head spinning and her lungs burning. What just happened? What had she done? The knife…

"Alison, can you walk?" Fili said, looking at her. There was a strange glint in his eyes, half-wariness and something else she didn't quite recognize. She nodded, accepting the hand he offered her as he led her down the passageway.

As they continued on, he must've realized she was capable of walking on her own, and he let go of her hand, which she found she was vaguely disappointed over.

Farther and farther the Company went down the pathway, and Alison looked up to the high cavern walls on either side of her, seeing the gleam of sunlight way up above them. The air turned warmer and sweeter, and Alison could imagine it shimmering, filling her up with a wondrous sense of…something. She didn't know how to describe it, but it tugged at her, as if sensing her presence and wanting to draw her in to the light, to the feeling of serenity that washed over her the farther she went.

"Gandalf," she said to the Wizard, who was walking behind her. "Where are we?"

"You can feel it?" the Wizard replied, looking down at her and smiling slightly.

"Yes," she said, and she wondered whether Gandalf would scoff at her as he raised his eyebrows at her. "It feels…well, it feels like magic."

To her surprise and relief, Gandalf only nodded as they came to the apparent end of the passageway, for suddenly it was wider and more light poured in. She paused with the Wizard before following the others out of the passageway. "That's exactly what it is," he said. "A very powerful magic."

And with no explanation, he exited the passageway, Alison hurrying behind him. And as they entered into the scene before them, Alison's jaw dropped, and all the breath in her body escaped in a silent _whoosh. _

"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf said. "In the Common Tongue, it is known by another name."

Memory came rushing back to Alison as she gazed at the beautiful scene before her, and at the same time as Bilbo, they breathed out one word together: "Rivendell."

* * *

**So Thorin in his skivvies anyone? Huh huh? Woo watch out, it's gettin' crazy up in here! *waits for someone to laugh* **

**For some reason whenever I imagine Bilbo and Alison's interactions, I always think of her being all motherly and stuff towards him, so I just decided to add it because that's just how I view their relationship I guess!**

**And so, the war begins... I have people who want Fili/Alison (Filison) and some who want Kili/Alison (Kilison) ((if anyone has better ship names, please share)) Buuuuttt we'll see how things play out;)**

**So again, thank you so much for reading! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter because I had SO much fun writing it! As always, don't forget to review! I love hearing your thoughts and feedback! Thank you, lovelies! Until next chapter...**


	10. 10: A Short Rest

**Hey guys! So I'm back with Chapter Ten, and we have finally reached Rivendell! Just a short A/N here, but you have no idea how hard this chapter was to write. It seems like the simplest thing in the world, but there were SO many details to convey in this chapter, and I got writer's block more than once lol. But I hope y'all like it anyway! It's kind of a slower chapter than what I'm used to, but don't worry, we'll start up the pace a little bit again next chapter. Enjoy!:)**

* * *

Chapter Ten: A Short Rest

Alison had never seen such a beautiful place in all her life—and she knew, when looking at it, that 'beautiful' was too much of a restraint for Rivendell. The Hidden Valley was beyond such mundane words.

The Company stood on a rocky ledge overlooking the valley, with a gurgling river slowly winding its way along the valley floor below them. High, arcing waterfalls took flight from the tall cliffs surrounding them, their spray glinting gold in the burnished light from the setting sun. Directly across from them stood a collection of gorgeous, open-air houses, with intricate balconies and terraces stretching everywhere across the buildings, gleaming with whites, browns, silvers, and blues, surrounded by the clear crystal waters of streams and brooks and the lush forests of the valley. Alison was instantly captivated, her body and soul and mind ensnared by the beauty and the underlying magic of the place, for Gandalf was right; the valley was humming with power.

"Yes, Rivendell," Gandalf said, looking around the valley with a calm smile on his face. "Here lies the Last Homely House east of the Sea."

The dwarves all looked around in awe, but the serenity of the moment was shattered as Thorin stalked up to Gandalf, an angry scowl set deep in his face.

"This was your plan all along," the dwarf king accused. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said sharply, his piercing gaze meeting Thorin's angry one. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" he demanded, and by this point, the whole Company had turned around and was watching their heated conversation. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will," Gandalf agreed, surprising Thorin a bit. "But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to _me_."

And with that, Gandalf began to make his way down the ledge, towards the expansive house across the river; with another scowl, Thorin followed him, and the Company fell into step behind them. Alison and Bilbo took up the rear, ogling and basking in the ethereal beauty of the valley as they picked their way slowly and distractedly after the Company.

Eventually, they descended from the cliff-side they had come out on and encountered a narrow stone walkway spanning across the river. As the dwarves made their way across carefully, Alison followed much more slowly, watching the water as it flowed underneath her feet, almost close enough to touch if she were to bend down. Even the way the water sounded babbling over rocks was magical in its own way, and Alison just wanted to jump in and let the water ease away her aches and worries.

She shook her head a little bit, hurrying to catch up with the Company; she couldn't be distracted by this place. She knew the stories of what happened to mortals who came into contact with magic, and she wasn't keen on falling into the river and discovering she had been turned into a mermaid or something.

The Company, led by Gandalf, entered a pavilion near the water's edge, looking around in wonder at the strange place. There was no sign of any Elves so far, and Alison drank in her surroundings, admiring the graceful architecture, melded with the own doings of nature as she noticed the beautiful carven statues of Elven knights draped with vines.

"Mithrandir," a clear voice said from behind them, and the Company turned, seeing an Elf make his way down the tall stone staircase of the front house.

Now, Alison had seen Hobbits, Dwarves, Orcs, and Wizards, but nothing could have prepared her for the appearance of an Elf. Alison openly stared as the Elf graced down the stairs, marveling at his air-like movements and the aura of gentle power that radiated from him. There was no other word for the Elf she saw—he was simply beautiful.

He was like an angelic statue come to life, flawless and radiant in the setting light of the sun. His skin was alabaster pale, smooth and unblemished, a bright contrast against his deep violet robes and braided silver circlet. He was tall and slender, and normally Alison didn't like guys on the skinnier side, but she did not mind in the slightest as she took in the Elf's face, with his high cheekbones, angular jaw, and sweeping dark hair that flowed down his back…

_Whoa, girl, _she said, blinking out of the trance she had gone into at the sight of the Elf. _Calm down now. He's just an Elf. A very pretty Elf boy. But that's it._

Alison suddenly became aware of how disgusting she was, her clothes dirty and sweat-stained, her hair tangled and unwashed, and she bet her face was probably no better, either, as the Elf graced the last few steps and put a hand over his heart, bowing his head to Gandalf.

"Ah, Lindir," the Wizard said, making the same gesture back to the Elf as Lindir spoke in a musical voice of Elvish, a small smile flitting across his lips.

As the Elf spoke, Alison saw Thorin lean close to Dwalin and whisper something along the lines of "Stay sharp."

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," Gandalf said politely to Lindir in the Common Tongue, and Lindir shook his head.

"My Lord Elrond is not here," he said.

"Not here?" Gandalf repeated. "Where is he?"

But Lindir didn't answer, for suddenly there was the sound of a horn behind them, the same horn that had blown before the attack on the Orcs when they were in the cavern. The Company turned, and they saw a single-file procession of horses galloping down the pathway they had just crossed towards the pavilion, and Alison could see the gleam of their armor and helms and their Elven banners flying behind them as they rode down.

It was obviously a returning war party, but Alison didn't see all the fuss as Thorin shouted, "Close ranks!" and Nori pushed in front of her, trapping her in the middle with Bilbo as the dwarves crowded around them. They eyed the Elven party fiercely as they circled around the Company, easily towering over them on their horses as they all stopped at once, facing the group from underneath their elaborate silver helms.

"Is this really necessary?" Alison grumbled to the dwarves, wanting to see the Elves up close, but they ignored her, still staring distrustfully at the gathered war party.

"Gandalf!" A voice said, and Alison looked to see an Elf with long raven hair and lavish silver and dark red armor swing off his horse, a fine cape of gold fluttering around his shoulders as he dismounted.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf said, embracing the Elf dearly.

As Gandalf began to speak in Elvish to the lord of Rivendell, Elrond handed a crude, wrapped blade to Lindir, and Alison guessed it was a spoil of war, confirming the Company's suspicions that Elrond had drove off the Orc hunting party.

"Strange for Orcs to come so near our borders," Elrond said, abruptly switching to the Common Tongue mid-conversation. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near." Elrond gave a pointed look to the Wizard.

"Ah, that may have been us," he said, a little bit guiltily.

Elrond half-smiled, sweeping his dark gaze over the Company. To her intense shock and dread, Elrond's eyes sought her out first, and she gulped as the Elven-lord bowed to her. The dwarves looked to her in bewilderment, but she didn't take her eyes off of Elrond as he straightened, looking back to her.

"Welcome, Lady Ashburne," he said. "It is most joyous to see you here in Rivendell. Your arrival has long since been anticipated among the inhabitants of Middle-earth."

She knew she should probably curtsy or something, replying with a formality equal to his, but all she could do was squeak out, "Really?"

Elrond smiled kindly. "Indeed. You are most welcome here, my Lady."

"Thank you," she said, smiling tightly, still flustered that the Elven-lord had singled her out first.

Thorin stepped forward then, his gray-blue eyes hard, and Elrond turned to him, nodding his head respectfully. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thráin."

"I do not believe we have met," Thorin said, looking at the Elf with poorly disguised mistrust.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Elrond replied. "I knew Thrór when he ruled under the Mountain."

"Indeed?" Thorin said, lifting a brow. "He made no mention of you." Alison mentally face-palmed herself at the clear tone of hostility in the dwarf king's voice.

Elrond narrowed his eyes slightly, taking in the dwarf king with unfathomable eyes. Finally, he let forth a long stream of Elvish words, the language rolling over his tongue as he met Thorin's gaze.

When he had finished, Glóin spoke up from the inside of the group, his thick eyebrows contracted angrily as he growled, "What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" The other dwarves began to grumble as well, glaring at the Elven-lord, and Alison rolled her eyes at their hasty assumption.

"No, Master Glóin, he is offering you food," Gandalf said, a little exasperatedly. At this, the Company all shared looks and began to mutter quietly to each other, casting suspicious glances at the Elves around them. Alison listened to them in bemusement before they finally came to a decision.

"Well, in that case, lead on," Glóin said gruffly, and Elrond smiled again.

"Certainly," he said, and he gestured to Lindir, who immediately came to his side. "Lindir, show Lady Ashburne to her rooms. I will escort Thorin Oakenshield and Gandalf. Delthiel," Elrond said, gesturing to one of the standard-bearing Elves, and the armored Elf straightened immediately. "Kindly escort the Master Dwarves to the dining pavilion."

The two Elves nodded, and Lindir approached Alison, beckoning to her with a slender hand. Ignoring the disdainful glares and mutterings of the dwarves towards her escort, Alison accepted his hand gratefully with a small smile, and the Elf turned and led her back up the staircase he had descended from earlier.

"I see the Road has not been too lenient for you and your companions," the Elf said in his musical voice, taking in her bedraggled and travel-stained appearance with expressionless dark eyes.

Alison blushed as they ascended the final steps of the staircase, entering into an exquisite entry hall with glowing lamps hanging from the ceiling and gorgeous woven tapestries adorning the walls. "Is it ever lenient for anyone?"

"Seldom," he replied, a quick smile gracing his lips as they exited the house and came out to a veranda with a breathtaking vista of the valley. He led her to the left, where a smaller, yet no less exquisite house perched on the edge of a slight ridge, a tranquil waterfall flowing underneath it before falling down empty space to the valley floor far below them. Alison looked to Lindir as he continued. "It is interesting, how you came to be in the company of thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit. The Wizard, I understand, but the others…"

He lifted a slender brow questioningly, and Alison began to panic. She couldn't tell him about the quest to Erebor—Thorin would kill her for divulging such secrets. And then she felt confusion; if her arrival had long been expected, then shouldn't the Elves know already what she had been sent to do? Unless, she thought suddenly, they didn't know her purpose, but only of her arrival.

"The Company found me when I first arrived with Gandalf," she said, hoping she would sound convincing; lying had never been one of her strong suits. "They told us that they were traveling east to…" she hesitated, before an image of the map Bilbo had given her swam into view, and she prayed the Grey Mountains were Dwarf territory as she continued, "Ered Mithrin! Yes, Ered Mithrin, to visit distant relations or some sort. And the Hobbit, I don't know. I assume he just wants adventure; strange, how different he is from most of his kind that way. And since Gandalf and I were traveling the same way, we decided to journey together. So…yeah," she nodded vigorously as Lindir glanced at her sideways, frowning.

Much to her relief, he didn't press her, though it was obvious he knew she was lying. They fell into silence as they climbed another staircase, this one smaller than the main one in the pavilion and made from ivory it seemed, instead of stone. They approached a light wooden door located at the end of a secluded hallway, and as they stopped in front of it Lindir released her hand.

"These are your rooms, my Lady," he said. "I will send for some maids to help you dress for dinner and I will return within the hour to escort you to the dining pavilion."

"Thank you, Lindir," she said politely, remembering her manners and bowing at the waist. The Elf inclined his head gracefully before retreating back down the hallway, his violet robes swirling behind him.

Alison entered the door behind her, crossing into the room beyond, when she stopped suddenly, her mouth dropping open. She had been expecting a bedroom and a bathroom for sure, but looking around the room, she realized that this was more like a hotel suite than just a room.

To her left was a raised platform of polished, light wood floors, with the largest bed she had seen in her life perched atop it. The headboard was a work of art, with gleaming wooden branches entwined together to create a backdrop of splendor against the white-sheeted mammoth of a bed; Alison was sure if she were to lay in the center of it and stretch out her arms and legs, she would not be able to reach the sides.

The ceiling was high and vaulted with wooden beams, giving the illusion she was inside a tree as pretty sparkling lamps dangled down like glowing wind chimes, casting the room in a pretty silver light and giving a sense of realness to the tapestries of nature on the walls and the fine ivory statues of Elf-maidens in the alcoves of the room. Across the wide expanse of the bedroom, gauzy blue curtains that reminded her of the waters outside fluttered in the gentle breeze, opening onto a terrace bursting with flowers in all shapes and colors while overlooking the stunning views of Rivendell.

Alison crossed to the right of the room, where an intricate awning opened up into a lavish washroom, the wood floors under her feet turning into warm, carefully hewn stone as she entered in deeper. The washroom had to be as big as her bedroom back home, with a natural spring waterfall bubbling on one side of the room, feeding into the carved stone tub dominating most of the floor space, and a simple stone vanity on the other side with a large oval mirror.

"Wow," Alison breathed, summing up the room in one understated word. Not sure if she should wait for the Elf-maids or not, but deciding she was too revolting to wait any longer, Alison peeled off her clothes and wadded them into a smelly pile before letting down her hair and stepping to the edge of the expansive tub.

She dipped a toe into the water, expecting it to be cold from the spring feeding it, but found to her delight that it was actually quite hot. She submerged herself slowly, feeling as if she were entering a Jacuzzi, but when she got to her torso, she gasped as an arc of pain lanced through her body.

Her breath hissing through her teeth as she fought to breathe through the pain, she looked down, and almost fainted at what she saw.

Her chest was covered with bruises, all blacks and blues and deep reds mottled together in a painting of horror on her body. The troll's grip had been too much for her small human body to handle, and as she continued to suck in sharp gasps of air, she felt her ribs beginning to throb, and she suspected they may have been bruised, as well.

Fighting through the pain, she continued to slowly sink into the water, perching herself on the ledge seat on the rim of the tub. As she sank to her shoulders, tears were beginning to leak out of her eyes, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

She sat rigidly, letting the water wash over her and hoping her ribs would acclimate, but they seemed to burn more intensely, and in her haze of pain Alison didn't even hear the door open until two Elf-maids entered the washroom, gazing down at her with wide eyes as they took in her tears and pained grimace.

"Lady Ashburne," one of them said in a lilting voice, her blue eyes concerned. "Is there something wrong?"

Alison, not even embarrassed at the fact she was in the bath while they stood over her, nodded and ground out, "My ribs. I think they're bruised."

"Alawë," the second Elf-maid's voice said from behind her, and then there was a rapid sentence in Elvish. Alawë, the first Elf-maid, nodded once and hurried off, leaving Alison alone with the second she-Elf.

"Lady Ashburne," the second voice said, and this voice was richer than Alawë's, deeper and older. Alison craned her neck with difficulty and saw the other Elf-maid, tall and slim with long chocolate hair and deep brown eyes, holding a vase of some sort in her hands. "Can you manage a short bath until Alawë returns with the herbs?"

Alison didn't know what herbs the she-Elf was talking about, but she nodded; she was already in the bath, and good Lord did she want to be clean again. The she-Elf handed her a piece of pale green cloth, and with difficulty, she began to scrub away the layers of dirt and grime covering her skin, gritting her teeth as the she-Elf set to work on washing her hair.

Alison was amazed at how much dirt was sloughing off her skin as she continued to wash herself; she was vaguely disappointed that most of her "tan" was peeling off, revealing a lighter shade of bronze underneath, though she noticed she was beginning to get a lot more freckles from the exposure to the sun on the journey.

After a few more minutes of painstaking washing, Alison's skin was finally rid of all the culminated dirt and her hair was clean and nice-smelling, thanks to the Elf-maid, who turned around politely as Alison clambered out of the tub and stiffly shrugged on the thick satin robe she had been provided with.

"This way," the Elf-maid said, leading her gently over to the bed, where Alison sank down gratefully, holding her chest at an awkward angle to avoid any more pain as Alawë swept back into the room, holding a silken wrap of some sort in one hand and a brew of herbs in another.

Alawë and the second she-Elf communicated in Elvish for a moment, and then Alawë approached Alison with a slight smile meant to comfort. "If I may be allowed to tend to your injuries, my Lady?" she said, and Alison nodded, her chest too tight to say anything.

Feeling extremely awkward and embarrassed, Alison removed her robe as Alawë slathered the silk wrap in the herbal brew, chanting in Elvish under her breath as she worked. Alison sat stiffly, waiting for the pain she knew was coming as the she-Elf began to wrap her torso, but it never came. As the wrap wound around her upper body, there was a flash of cold, and then a spreading warmth as the herbs came into contact with her bruises, and the pain subsided greatly, though there was still a sense of tight discomfort as Alawë tied the wrap loosely and stood back up.

"That should alleviate your pain," she said, wiping her hands on a cloth the other she-Elf held out to her. "Though you will still feel some discomfort over the next few days. By the fourth day you should be healed as long as you reapply the salve and the wrap. I will leave extras for you."

"Thank you," Alison said, placing a hand on her chest. There was a small twinge of soreness, but it was nothing compared to the stabbing pain she had felt earlier. She wondered why she had not noticed it before; perhaps the adrenaline she had been feeling all day had finally worn off, awakening her to the presence of the pain.

Alawë smiled gently. "Gebrindra and I will assist you in getting ready for dinner," she said, and Alison nodded again, not really knowing whether to make conversation or not, so she stayed in silence.

As she watched the two Elf-maids whisk around the room, setting out things like a comb and what seemed to be a dress, Alison felt the stirrings of envy in her chest, which surprised her, for she wasn't really the jealous type. But observing the Elf-maids made her feel especially self-conscious and insignificant compared to their floating, graceful movements and beautiful selves, with their flowing hair, deep eyes, and pale skin. Compared to her short, slight self and obvious human looks, the Elves were like deities, while she was the lowly commoner.

_Oh, get over yourself, _she thought. _You're a human, and they're Elves. Obviously they're going to look better than you. _And what did it matter? It wasn't like she had anyone to impress, anyway.

That's what she kept thinking to herself as the Elves worked on her with light, gentle hands, drying her hair and attempting to fashion it despite its stubborn lankiness and dressing her. Alison had some reservations about her outfit as they slipped the dress over her head, for she had never liked dresses and would much rather have preferred her jeans on the floor, but the Elves insisted on her gown, stating it was a sign of courtesy to the Elven-lord. So Alison sucked it up and let the Elf-maids continue to work on her, brushing a fine powder across her face before stepping away, scrutinizing her.

Feeling nervous about what they had done to her, Alison crossed to the mirror and looked herself up and down in it, feeling a slight shock as she looked at her appearance.

Though still very plain, not at all radiant, she seemed…older, more mature somehow. Instead of her hair hanging down in a straight style, it now framed her face in brown curls, and she wondered how in the world the Elves had managed to curl her hair and hold the style in a day when she had been trying and failing to do so for half her life. But besides her hair, she didn't look any different; her face was still the same, a few shades darker than her original skin tone from the sun, and now with a dash of freckles across the bridge of her nose, but still the same. And her eyes were nearly unchanged as well; pale green and bright, but now weighed down with a layer of exhaustion at the same time, and a sort of hardness that hadn't been there before.

However, the dress was the most significant part; it was long-sleeved, with a loose bodice shimmering in autumn colors of red, brown, and gold that flowed out to a swirling skirt of a pretty cream color. It was easily the nicest thing she had ever worn, but she felt highly uncomfortable in it; it just wasn't _her. _

"Do you like it?" Gebrindra asked, and Alison forced a smile.

"It's wonderful," she said. "Thank you."

The Elf-maids bowed as a light knock came on the door, and Alison crossed the room and opened it, revealing Lindir on the other side. "Are you ready for dinner, my Lady?" he asked, giving her a quick once-over with expressionless eyes.

"Yes, I am," she said, and he offered her his hand again, which she took with a slight nod.

She thought about going back to retrieve the slippers the Elf-maids had placed out for her, but she enjoyed the feeling of her bare feet on the floor too much, and besides, her dress was long enough to cover her feet anyway.

_To hell with it, _she thought, as Lindir swept her down the hallway and towards the dining pavilion. As the first shivers of music took to the air some distance away, Alison suddenly realized how much lighter she felt, as if a huge block of concrete that had been sitting on her chest had been lifted, allowing her to breathe again, and not just because of her tended injury.

She had never realized just how scared and stressed and anxious she had been until she had entered into the relaxing atmosphere of Rivendell. But now that she was here, she felt immensely better, the fear and uncertainty she had been carrying around for the past several days subsiding; at least temporarily, anyway, until they started their journey again. But Alison couldn't stop the serene feeling bubbling up in her, and she allowed herself a small smile before she entered into the twilit dining pavilion.

* * *

Fili had never seen an Elf. But from the way the dwarves in Ered Luin had described them, as cold, distant, haughty and arrogant creatures, he had been expecting them to be cruel yet beautiful beings, with blood-red smiles and claws or the sort. He definitely had not been expecting this.

When Lindir had descended from the staircase, Fili had been quite taken aback. While he was certainly an unearthly being, Fili had thought he looked quite…normal, despite his regal air and the aura of gentle power surrounding him, devoid of any claws or things. And that was what he had noticed about the rest of the Elves they had encountered as they were led along to the dining pavilion by Delthiel: while certainly regal and distant, they were not arrogant or unkind. In fact, they hardly paid any attention to the dwarves at all as they passed through the enormous halls.

The Company didn't speak to each other as they were led along deeper into the House of Elrond, though they all walked close together and took in their surroundings warily. While Fili did have to admit that Rivendell was beautiful in its own way, he felt uncomfortable with all the open space around him. With a twinge of homesickness, he craved for the mountain halls of Ered Luin, with the high cavern roofs that echoed with the ceaseless noise of Dwarven life and the hustle and bustle of his people. Rivendell was far too quiet and peaceful for his taste.

Eventually, Delthiel led them to an outdoor pavilion overlooking the valley, washed golden from the rays of the setting sun. There was a high table situated at the front, set with four chairs, presumably for Elrond, Gandalf, Thorin, and…Alison? Fili assumed so, since the Elves had practically treated her like royalty when she had arrived, calling her "Lady" and giving her rooms of her own.

He felt a strange twinge as he thought that; he saw her as a normal human girl, and it was strange to remind himself that she was descended from the First Hero, and belonged to a separate great line all her own.

Delthiel led them to two smaller tables in the center of the pavilion, divided down the middle by the presence of a large stone pedestal. Bombur, Bilbo, Balin, Óin, Ori, Dori and Glóin took the first table, while the rest of the Company took the second.

Fili situated himself at the end of the table, with Dwalin and Bifur on his side and Kili, Nori, and Bofur across from them. There was much disconcerted grumbling as the dwarves sat down, for the tables were low to the ground and they had cushions to sit on instead of chairs, which they found distinctly uncomfortable.

As they sat down, Delthiel bowed stiffly in his armor and then whisked away as other Elves began to take up positions around the pavilion, flutes and harps and lyres in their hands as they began to tune them. A few minutes later Elrond entered the pavilion, changed out of his armor into robes of rich gold and an intricate circlet upon his brow, leading in front of Gandalf and Thorin, who looked unruffled and scowling as he trailed after the Elven-lord.

"Where's the food?" Bofur complained. "This doesn't seem much like a dinner if there isn't actually any _dinner_ out."

Fili smirked as he noticed one of the Elven flute players shoot him a dirty look, while the Elf-maid coming around pouring them wine looked as if she had swallowed something sour as she topped off their glasses and whisked away.

"Do you think they have any sweet bread here?" Kili asked, looking around the pavilion curiously. Fili inwardly rolled his eyes; Kili had been obsessed with sweet bread practically since he had first learned to walk, and his brother sought it out whenever he could, the question becoming a sort of habit for him anywhere they went.

Fili glanced up to the high table where Thorin sat, and he made eye contact with his uncle, who looked as sullen as ever. Fili nodded to him, and Thorin inclined his head, his face lined with the scowl plastered to his mouth. Then Lindir appeared behind the table, leading someone by the hand, and Fili had to do a double-take as he realized it was Alison the Elf was leading.

After only seeing her in her traveling clothes with her hair up or dripping wet in her face, it came as a shock to see her in a dress with her hair loose and curled. The dress was obviously meant for the tall statures of the Elves, and it pooled around her feet as she walked, but the deep colors made her plain brown hair appear lighter and her eyes glint like green ice as she stepped into the pavilion. Though she looked…good, it made Fili slightly unnerved to see her dressed so differently and her appearance equally disparate.

Elrond got to his feet as she entered, letting go of Lindir's hand as the Elf went to stand off to the side by Elrond's chair, and the Elven-lord smiled and gestured to the open chair at the other end of the table.

"Lady Ashburne," he said. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," she said. "But actually…I was wondering if I could sit with my friends?" Her voice rose nervously at the end, as if she were expecting his refusal, and Elrond stared at her for a few seconds.

"Well, I do not see that being a problem," he said, sitting back down and looking vaguely bemused. "Lindir, if you could find another seat…"

Fili watched in amusement as Lindir reappeared a few seconds later with another cushion, which he set down at the head of Fili's table. The Elf offered a hand to escort her, but she had already nodded her thanks to Elrond and marched to her new seat. The Company snickered as Lindir looked slightly affronted at her disregard and resumed his place behind Elrond's chair.

Fili shared a grin with Bofur across the table, and then his eyes flickered over to Kili. His brother's dark eyes were trained on Alison as she made her way over, and there was a light in them he had never seen before. Though Kili's expression remained neutral with that guard he had begun to put up, Fili knew his brother well enough to read his eyes, and what he saw there bothered him. With a sinking feeling in his chest, Fili figured it was time to talk to Kili about the extent of his feelings toward their companion.

Alison took her seat between Fili and Kili at the head of the table, and as she sat down, Fili saw her wince and place a hand over her upper abdomen; though, looking around, it seemed he had been the only one to notice, as Kili had gone back to observing the pavilion and the others weren't paying much attention.

As the pavilion shimmered with the Elven music in earnest and Elf servants fluttered around with dishes of salad and greenery, Fili looked to Alison and said, "What's wrong?"

She looked to him and glanced away quickly. "Nothing's wrong," she said nonchalantly, reaching for her glass of wine.

Fili raised his eyebrows skeptically. "I'm not blind you know. I saw you wince."

She took an experimental sip of the wine, her face puckering a bit at the sour taste, and then she sighed as she noticed Fili still staring at her expectantly. "I just…got a bit banged up last night. But it's nothing to worry about; the Elves fixed me up. I should be fine in a few days."

"'A bit banged up' and 'a few days' doesn't really add together," he noted.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "The troll bruised my ribs. Happy now?"

"No, I'm not," he said, ignoring her sarcasm. "Alison, why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell _me?" _

"Because I didn't even realize it until we got here!" They were whispering furiously to each other from their seats now; fortunately, none of the others were still paying attention.

"You still could've said something," he replied irritably. "We could've checked and patched you up—"

She snorted, breaking him off. "'Oh, right, here, let me just try to wrap your injured ribs as we're running for our lives. That's totally an option!'" she said. "Honestly, Fili, I'm fine. I don't see why you're so worried."

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment an Elf-maid placed a bowl of salad down before him while another bowl landed in front of Alison, breaking off their progressively heated conversation.

As Alison took another sip from her wine, Fili began to wonder; why _was _he so worried about her? She was upright and fine, not even near death's door. So why was he so concerned for her well-being?

_She's a woman_, he reminded himself. _Your chivalry is coming out. And you would be worried if the same had happened to anyone else in the Company, especially if it were Kili._

Feeling better at the thought, Fili then turned to his dinner in distaste; he hoped this was only just an appetizer, or else his stomach would be growling all night. And apparently he wasn't the only one thinking the same.

"Try it," he heard Dori urge from the other table, and he looked to see the fussy Dwarf gazing beseechingly to Ori.

"I don't like green food," Ori said, staring at the piece of lettuce in his hand with displeasure.

"Where's the meat?" Dwalin said from beside Fili, shifting around his salad with his hands in incredulity, as if thinking the Elves were playing a prank on him. There were similar mutterings up and down the pavilion, and Fili watched as the Elves looked more and more disgruntled with every remark. Alison, however, ate the salad without complaint, chewing and swallowing it as if it were daily fare; and in her world, it probably was.

Fili picked a piece of lettuce from his bowl and nibbled on it experimentally. As he swallowed the tasteless greenery, his stomach twinged in protest, demanding meats and breads and ales, and he set down the lettuce, wondering if the Elves were trying to starve them.

"Kili? What are you looking at?" Alison said suddenly, and at her questioning tone, the whole table looked to the young dwarf prince, who had been smiling and winking at something over Fili's shoulder. Curious, Fili looked behind him, along with Dwalin and Alison, and much to the dwarves' detestation and Alison's amusement, they saw a she-Elf with dark blue eyes and black hair playing the harp, her eyes on Kili as well. Though at the others' stares, she quickly looked away.

Alison snickered into her wine glass as Kili dropped his gaze as well, obviously trying to play off his staring as Dwalin glared at him and Fili gave him a disapproving look as everyone else at the table watched amusedly.

"You know, I can't say I fancy Elf-maids myself," the younger dwarf prince said, taking a gulp from his wine glass as he looked around the table imploringly. "Just too thin. They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin…not enough facial hair for me." Dwalin still glared at him while Fili raised an eyebrow, Alison beginning to giggle beside him. "Although," Kili said, gesturing behind his shoulder with a cocky wink at an Elf drifting by. "That one there's not bad."

Alison began to choke in earnest, and the rest of the table looked to her as she laughed, clutching her abdomen. "Kili," she said under her breath, as he stared at her in puzzlement. "That's not an Elf-maid."

At that moment, the Elf turned around, still strumming his instrument serenely, and with a shock, Fili realized that indeed he was not an Elf-maid. Kili looked to Alison and the others in horror, and Dwalin winked at Kili, causing the whole table to erupt into laughter. Even Fili joined in at his brother's half-embarrassed, half-horrified expression.

"That's funny," Kili said, not meeting anyone's eyes as more Elf-servants came by, refilling their glasses and setting down baskets of some sort of powdered rolls. "That's real funny."

The brief laughing spell seemed to have reawakened something in the dwarves; they had been abnormally subdued and quiet throughout most of the dinner, but with the assistance of the Elven wine and bolstered by the loudness of laughter again, the Company became bolder and rowdy again, and with a bad feeling, Fili knew what was coming next.

"Prepare yourself," he whispered to Alison, and she looked at him curiously. "The revelry is about to start."

She opened her mouth, obviously about to ask what he meant, when suddenly Nori's voice came from the end of the table: "Change the tune, why don't you?" he said to the music-playing Elves. "I feel like I'm at a funeral!"

"Did somebody die?" Óin asked from across the pavilion, his ear trumpet misinterpreting things as usual. Fili saw Elrond and Lindir looking on with tight expressions as the dwarves all began to voice their somewhat rude thoughts, as well.

"All right, lads, there's only one thing for it," Bofur said, and he suddenly got up from his seat, walking along the table and knocking aside dishes as he clambered on top of the stone pedestal in the center of the pavilion. He held out his hands in a spectacular gesture as he began to sing:

"_There is an inn, a merry old inn,_

_Beneath an old grey hill._

_And there they brew a beer so brown,_

_The Man in the Moon himself came down,_

_One night to drink his fill._

_The ostler has a tipsy cat, _

_That plays a five-stringed fiddle._

_And up and down he saws his bow,_

_Now squeaking high,_

_Now purring low."_

By this point, all the other dwarves had joined in, making beats and singing along while tossing their food around at each other. Fili saw Alison looking on with a wide grin and round eyes, caught off-guard from the unexpected change in the atmosphere and the dwarves' sudden revelry. Food had begun to fly everywhere, and most of the Elves had taken shelter as Elrond and Lindir watched in silent horror. Bofur continued with the last verse of the song:

"_So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,_

_A jig that would wake the dead._

_He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,_

_While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon,_

"_It's after three!" he said!"_

On the last line, the dwarves all shouted it together, and as Fili tossed more and more food, Alison turned to him, laughing, her green eyes sparkling with a light he found himself captivated by. And as Kili handed her a roll to throw, which she accepted and pitched into the fray of soaring food, still laughing, Fili thought that he had never seen a light shine as bright as that before.

* * *

"Our business is no concern of Elves," Thorin said, glaring at Elrond distrustfully. He was standing in the Elven-lord's study with Balin, Gandalf, and—for some reason unbeknownst to him—Bilbo, the bright light of the moon streaming in through the open archways of the expansive study.

Thorin didn't want to be there; though he knew they needed help in regard to the map of the Lonely Mountain and its secrets, surely there was any other entity in Middle-earth besides Elves that could help them? To think that he had stooped so low, coming to the very people who had turned their backs on him and his kin, being forced to ask for aid like a stray dog begging for scraps. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"For goodness' sake," Gandalf said impatiently. "Thorin, show him the map!"

"It is the legacy of my people," Thorin said, not taking his gaze from Elrond's expressionless dark eyes. "It is mine to protect. As are its secrets."

"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves!" Gandalf said in exasperation. "Your pride will be your downfall." Thorin switched his glare to Gandalf, slightly taken aback by the Wizard's words. "You stand here in the presence of one of the few people in Middle-earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!"

Thorin looked back and forth between Elrond and Gandalf, contemplating; Thorin was adamant in him not showing the map to the Elf. It was strictly a Dwarven artifact, and he knew that if he revealed the map, Elrond would know about their quest immediately. But Gandalf's words had sparked something in him, a flicker of worry he had been keeping at bay for weeks now. And Thorin wanted his home back; it was his birthright, and he deserved to restore his people to splendor again, even if it meant seeking help from the Elves. With Gandalf's words ringing in his ears, Thorin swallowed and removed the map from under his cloak.

"Thorin, no—" Balin protested, but Thorin held up a hand as he approached the Elven-lord cautiously, reluctantly holding out the map.

Elrond took the map from Thorin's hand, his eyes unfathomable as he opened it and looked down to it. It was silent for a few moments as Elrond studied the map, and Thorin watched anxiously as the Elf's eyes widened infinitesimally.

"Erebor," he said in wonder, and Thorin felt some smugness at the fact that he had managed to catch the high and mighty Elven-lord off his guard. Elrond looked to the group in suspicion and incredulity. "What is your interest in this map?"

Thorin opened his mouth, ready to retort something along the lines of _None of your concern, _but definitely more rude; however, Gandalf cut in before Thorin could reply.

"It's mainly academic," the Wizard said, shooting a warning glare at Thorin when Elrond wasn't looking. "As you know, some of these artifacts sometimes contain hidden texts."

Elrond breezed over to a particularly large and bright shaft of moonlight, his pale gold robes rippling on the floor behind him as he held up the map to the moonlight. "You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" Gandalf asked.

Elrond did not answer immediately, still examining the map. The others watched curiously as he finally muttered two words: "_Cirth ithil_."

Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo stared blankly at the Elven-lord, but comprehension broke over Gandalf as he said, "Ah. Moon runes." He shook his head, a knowing smile on his face. "Of course. An easy thing to miss."

"Well in this case, that is true," Elrond said, turning back around to face them. "Moon runes can only be read by the light of the moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written."

Thorin felt his heart sink; these runes could have been written on any day of the year. He felt a sickening feeling in his gut as he wondered if they would have to wait months for the runes to be visible. Surely not even _his _luck could be so bad—

"Come," Elrond said, whisking out of the study, and Gandalf followed behind the Elven-lord wordlessly with Bilbo trailing after. Balin and Thorin exchanged a glance before they followed behind.

Elrond led them over many criss-crossing bridges and through many smaller houses, passing Elves as they ghosted by, looking like shining specters in the wash of the moon. Thorin felt distinctly wary and uncomfortable as he walked along the Last Homely House. It could not have been more obvious that the dwarves did not belong here, in these halls of nature and among these beings of etherealness. But that had been apparent from the beginning, and Thorin grinned to himself wryly as his thoughts flashed back to dinner that evening.

Eventually, Elrond led them up a winding cliff-side staircase, passing so close to waterfalls that Thorin could've reached out a hand and felt the spray on his fingertips. But he refrained from doing so as the Elf led them through a small tunnel carved into the cliff, and they came out on a crystalline ridge overlooking the valley, where a small dazzling waterfall took flight from somewhere above them and tumbled down one side of the cliff-face.

The other side was devoid of any waterfall, giving a fantastic view of the open stretch of night sky above them. Wispy clouds drifted across the moon and stars, and Thorin wondered if Elrond had brought them there to ogle at the view until he noticed a sparkling plinth centered on the hidden ridge, which Elrond placed the map upon and waited.

"These runes were written on a midsummer's eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago," the Elf said, indicating the map. "It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight."

Thorin's heart leaped as the scant clouds over the moon suddenly shifted, and a strong beam of silvery light bore into the ridge they were standing on. Thorin stepped closer to the plinth, having to crane his head slightly to get a better look, and he watched in wonder as the moon's rays revealed a small, silvery message in ancient Khuzdûl at the bottom of the map.

"'Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole,'" the Elf translated.

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It is the start of the Dwarves' new year, when the last moon of Autumn and the first sun of Winter appear in the sky together," Gandalf explained to the Hobbit.

Thorin felt as if he had been dumped into an icy lake and was slowly drowning as panic overtook him. "This is ill news," he said. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us." He couldn't bear to think of it; they still had months to go before they reached the Lonely Mountain. If they didn't make it in time—

"We still have time," Balin said, as if reading Thorin's thoughts.

"Time for what?" Bilbo asked, but Balin held up a hand.

"To find the entrance," he said. "We have to be standing at exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened."

"So this is your purpose? To enter the Mountain?" Elrond said, and Thorin flinched, having forgotten the Elf was there. Elrond stared at Thorin suspiciously, his eyes calculating, and Thorin inwardly cursed himself; if the Elf hadn't guessed their purpose before, he had now.

"What of it?" Thorin asked coldly.

Elrond folded the map and handed it back to Thorin, who took it with a faint flicker of surprise. "There are seem who would not deem it wise."

"Who do you mean?" Gandalf asked.

Elrond gave the Wizard a warning look. "You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth." And with that, he turned on his heel and swept back down the cliff-side.

* * *

"We cannot stay here any longer," Thorin said, as him and Balin walked together back to Thorin's rooms. They wandered a bit aimlessly, not exactly sure where the rooms were in the numerous houses of the place, but Thorin had a knack for remembering details, so he wasn't entirely hopeless as they went along. "If we are to reach the Mountain by Durin's Day we need to leave immediately. Tell the others we leave at dawn."

"I'm afraid we cannot do that quite yet," Balin said, and Thorin looked to him incredulously. The old Dwarf couldn't _possibly _like this place so much— "It's not my personal decision," the white-haired Dwarf added hastily at Thorin's look. "But Fili told me that Alison is injured, and she won't be healed for another few days, at the least."

"What do you mean, 'injured?'" he questioned. "She looked plenty healthy to me at dinner."

"Her ribs are bruised," Balin said. "The troll's grip was too strong for her. I'm just glad it didn't do any more serious damage to her. But you know how setting rib injuries work; she cannot exert herself for several days until they are healed, or she risks further damage."

Thorin seethed, knowing Balin was right, but cursing the human girl with her frail body. Then he felt a slight sense of guilt; it wasn't Miss Ashburne's fault that she wasn't built with the sturdy body of a Dwarf. But the timing was ill; now knowing their quest dangled by a deadline, Thorin was burning to start their journey again as soon as possible. They had to enter the Mountain. They had to.

"We'll be all right, laddie," Balin said comfortingly, patting Thorin's shoulder. "We can still make it there in time."

"How can you be so sure?" Thorin asked, as they finally came to a stop outside of his rooms.

"Because I know _you," _Balin said. "Once you set your mind on something you will not stop until you have reached your goal, whatever it may be. This quest is no different, and I know that you will succeed. Your determination is what will make you a great king."

Thorin stayed silent, too grateful for words at the comment. A lump formed in his throat as he took the older Dwarf's shoulder, but Balin saw the look in his eyes and smiled, knowing what Thorin was trying to convey through his eyes alone.

"Get some sleep, laddie," Balin said, and he walked away, back to where the rest of the Company was staying. Thorin watched him go until he was out of sight, and he was left alone in the shadows of the moon.

* * *

**So, continuing over from last chapter's A/N, I would love to shoutout Aryabloodlust for providing more ship names! So now we have: Fali (Fili/Alison), Kali (Kili/Alison), and a new one, so for those of you who ship Alison and THORIN together, she has also kindly provided 'Alirin' or 'Thoron'. So combined with the ones we already have, we now have a pretty good list to choose from! Thank you again to Aryabloodlust!**

**Whew. This chapter wore me out. Sorry if it wasn't as paced as the others, but I have A LOT of stuff in store for y'all, so bear with me!:)**

**Anyway, thank you for reading this chapter and to everyone who reviewed last time! I appreciate each and every one of your reviews! So, as always, please keep them coming! Thank you, lovelies! Until next chapter...**


	11. 11: Maethor

**Happy New Year's, everybody! 2014 is hereee. And you know what that means? Only 12 more months until There and Back Again comes out! I'm so emotionally unprepared for it. DoS killed me, and this next one...I can't. But I'm still excited!**

**So, Chapter 11 is here, and yay for chapters with character development (you can decide for yourself if that was sarcastic or not)**

**Anyway, thank you for all of your reviews last time, and I hope y'all enjoy!:)**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Maethor

When Bilbo awoke the next morning, it took him a few moments to remember where he was, and how he came to be in Rivendell. He sat up, taking in the sunlit valley and inhaling a deep breath of fresh, sweet air. He had overheard Alison and Gandalf's conversation in the cavern pathway on the way here, and he agreed whole-heartedly of the notion that this place was magical.

The trolls and the Orcs seemed thousands of lifetimes ago, far away from the safety and peaceful comfort of the Hidden Valley, and Bilbo imagined it as just a dream, a vivid nightmare that had manifested itself in his head, but he knew that wasn't the case. The sword by his side was far too real to be just a dream.

Bilbo still didn't know what to make of the sword. Though he knew Gandalf meant well when the Wizard had given it to him, he also knew that he would have no use of the blade, seeing as he had had no training whatsoever and was far too small to do any real damage in a fight. Even the thought of fighting made him feel nauseous, and he wondered if he could give it to Alison instead; from what he had overheard Ori telling their table at dinner last night about what had happened before entering the cavern yesterday, apparently Alison had thrown her knife at an Orc that was about to attack Fili, distracting the Orc and allowing for Fili to get in another blow before they made for the rocks, losing her weapon in the process.

The others had whistled appreciatively, and Bilbo along with them. Though he knew that Alison had "warrior blood", he had always been a bit skeptical; it just seemed too implausible that there was another world, the mortal world, beyond this one, and even more insane that people from these two worlds could cross back and forth and interact, even if it was only allowed through the will of the Valar. But after getting to know her these past few days, and now hearing about her supposed new skills, Bilbo was starting to believe, just a little bit, that she could be something more than a normal human girl.

Bilbo's stomach growled as he caught the scent of frying eggs and sausage, and he looked over from his bedroll to the center of the sheltered veranda where the Company sat, chatting merrily and cooking breakfast with Bombur's frying pan and some wood they had obviously stripped from a tree surrounding the veranda as Bilbo looked around.

With a slight pang, Bilbo remembered the dwarves' complete disregard for all things Elvish with a flashback to last night, and he shuddered a little bit as he recalled the flying food and Bofur's little jig and song. Apparently the dwarves' discourtesy had carried on from last night to this morning as the Hobbit gave one last look at the naked tree and went over to where the Company sat.

"Morning, Master Baggins," Balin said cheerfully, and Bilbo nodded sleepily to him as the old Dwarf puffed a bit on his pipe, watching the Company's proceedings with a sharp eye.

"Where did you get all this?" Bilbo asked, as Bombur began to load up plates and pass them around.

"Nori did a little reconnaissance for us last night," Bofur said, winking knowingly at Bilbo.

"It wasn't that hard, really," Nori said as he shoveled a bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth with his fingers. "These Elves have about as much security as a rabbit-hole."

Bilbo nodded as Bombur handed him a plate and he dug in. Though Bilbo enjoyed food as much as the next Hobbit, he valued manners very highly, and thought it was most disrespectful that they had been sneaking around stealing food from their hosts. But remembering that fateful night at Bag-End, Bilbo just decided to drop it, and he finished his breakfast in silence as the rest of the Company talked and laughed around him.

Once he had cleaned his plate, Bilbo decided he'd go do a bit of exploring. Rivendell intrigued him so, and he'd only seen glimpses of it so far. So he got to his feet and walked out of the veranda, almost running into Thorin, who was walking in the other direction.

The dwarf king looked tired, with dark shadows under his stormy eyes, and Bilbo wondered if he had lain awake all night, thinking about their journey to the Lonely Mountain and no doubt worrying about the deadline that was now hanging over their heads.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said, and Bilbo nodded his head, saying, "Thorin."

The dwarf king nodded back as he swept towards the veranda, leaving Bilbo alone in the corridor he had just entered. He knew Thorin didn't want him on the quest, and that maybe he didn't even really like him all that much, but Bilbo knew there was nothing he could do about it, either. He just hoped that by the end of this journey Thorin would come around to him, if only just a little bit.

Shrugging off the dwarf king's coldness, Bilbo began to wander the halls of the Last Homely House, pausing every once in a while to admire a tapestry or statue, winding his way in and out of the buildings and taking everything in. Every once in a while he'd come across an Elf, and they would smile at him fleetingly but kindly before drifting away again, going to do whatever it was that Elves do.

Around late morning, Bilbo came to a hallway in one of the central houses, where the corridor curved around a circular courtyard one story below. Bilbo made his way leisurely down the hallway, coming to a stop in front of a statue to his left.

The statue, like everything else in Rivendell, was gorgeous, but it was what the statue of the Elf-maiden was holding in her hands that intrigued Bilbo.

On a pedestal shrouded in silvery-blue cloth lay a hilt of a sword, gleaming silver and etched with runes that spoke of great power upon the blade. The blade itself was broken, lying in five separate pieces apart from the hilt, yet still in meticulously good condition. With a shock, Bilbo recalled stories he had heard of since he was a boy, and he stared in wonder as he realized he was standing in front of the famous blade of the King of Gondor, Narsil.

"The blade that was broken," he whispered in awe, and as if some invisible force had turned him, Bilbo looked to the wall across from the shards and saw a painting, and he realized with another shock that this was _the _painting, the painting from the War of the Last Alliance.

There, in the left corner, was the human figure of Isildur, bathed in white light as he wielded his father's broken blade against the might of Sauron. The whole rest of the portrait was shrouded in darkness, and the chest, shoulders and wicked helm of Sauron were discernible through the mass of painted shadows, and even though it was merely a painting, Bilbo still shivered at the sight of Sauron. The Dark Lord was wielding a massive mace in one hand, looming over Isildur for the last strike; and there, on Sauron's hand, a thin band of gold on one of his armor-clad fingers. Bilbo stared at it, mesmerized: the One Ring. The Ring that had caused so much bloodshed, so much destruction. It was curious, how small and simple the Ring was made out to be, so insignificant-looking, but with the power to topple kingdoms and corrupt the hearts of Men. How very curious it was…

Bilbo tore his eyes away from the portrait as footsteps echoed further down the hallway, and a few seconds later Alison appeared, looking quite lost until her eyes landed on Bilbo, and then her face broke into a grin.

"Oh, thank God," she said, coming up beside him. "I've been wandering around this place for _ages. _It's like a maze here."

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Bilbo asked, and she shot him a sharp look. "I mean, with your injury and all…"

"Who told you?" she demanded, sounding peeved, and Bilbo stared at her in confusion.

"Uh, Bofur told me," the Hobbit said, and she raised her eyebrows. "And he heard it from Glóin, who heard it from… I think Balin, who heard it from Fili. Why?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "So much for keeping it on the down-low," she muttered, then looked back to Bilbo. "No reason. I just…didn't want everyone to know about it yet."

Bilbo watched her carefully, taking in her crossed arms and slight frown. "Why would you not want anyone to know about it?" he asked, and she shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

"I…" she let out a resigned breath, locking eyes with him again. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Of course," he said, a tad startled at how serious she suddenly looked.

"I don't like looking weak," she said, not breaking eye contact with him, the pale green of her eyes half-somber, half-stubborn. "I never have. And the only thing I've been doing on this quest so far is looking weak. I've almost gotten eaten by a Warg, I almost drowned, and now _this," _she gestured to her torso, where no doubt her ribs were wrapped up from their encounter with the trolls. "I just feel like everyone looks down at me, or they pity me because I'm a _girl _who can't fight or handle herself. I just…feel useless."

Bilbo watched her for a moment, her teeth worrying at her lower lip as she looked around the hallway. He stayed silent for a few seconds, not really sure what to say to her unexpected statement. Finally, he cleared his throat, and she looked to him again.

"I know what you mean," he said. "I feel the same way about how everyone views me. I have no experience whatsoever, but you…I believe it is true what they say about you, Alison. I think you are a warrior, you just need the right moments to define yourself. When the Warg attacked you, you managed to escape, and you knocked out its teeth with a rock and stabbed it; and when the pony fell into the river, you risked your own life to save it without hesitation. And Ori told us last night that you threw your knife at an Orc that could've hurt Fili, and you saved his life."

She rolled her eyes half-heartedly, a small smile twitching her lips. "Remind me to _never _trust a Dwarf to keep a secret," she said, and Bilbo was pleased to hear how much lighter her voice sounded.

"But see, Alison?" he continued. "Even in the short amount of time you've been here, you've already done some amazing things, and the others think so, too. They don't care if you're a woman, and I can tell you that they certainly do not think you're weak. Just…give it time. Your warrior instincts or whatever it is, I mean. They're there; you just have to learn to use them."

Bilbo wondered if he had only made things worse as she stared off into space, her mouth puckered, but finally she just looked to him and said, "You're an interesting Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. I'm curious to see what this journey does for you."

"I don't know what you mean," Bilbo said. "I honestly have no idea what I'm doing here. I can't steal, I can't fight; I'm not a warrior like you or the others. I don't know what Gandalf was thinking bringing me along."

"You're right," she said. "You're not a thief or a warrior, Bilbo; you're something much more. While everyone else has their weapons and their strength, you have your mind and your wits. You got us out of the troll mess using your brain alone, no swords or axes involved. Gandalf chose you because you do have something to offer on this quest, and it's more than your physical capabilities. You're meant to be here; don't doubt yourself so much."

She said it with such conviction, as if she could see the future and knew what Bilbo could do. Absurd thoughts aside, he looked up to her in gratitude anyway, feeling a small knot of tension in his chest dissolve at her words.

"Thank you, Alison," he said. "Truthfully, I—"

"Don't mention it," she said, smiling. "But seriously, don't mention this conversation unless you want everyone to find out about it. I swear, those Dwarves are worse than gossiping old ladies."

Bilbo laughed at that, his heart feeling lighter as the seriousness of their conversation dissipated, and suddenly Alison caught sight of the shards of Narsil.

"What's that?" she said, her eyes widening as she stepped closer to the pedestal.

"The shards of Narsil," he said, coming up beside her. "This sword belonged to the King of Gondor, Elendil. He was slain in the War of the Last Alliance, the war against the Dark Lord Sauron in the Second Age. Sauron had created these rings, you see, Rings of Power, and he gave some to each of the races of Middle-earth: the Dwarves, the Elves, and the Men. But he had a ring as well, called the One Ring, and he used it to try and control the other races to his will. It's a long story, but eventually the conflict culminated in a war in Mordor, the free peoples of Middle-earth against Sauron and his forces. Sauron killed Elendil, but his son, Isildur, took up the remaining hilt of his father's broken sword and used it to sever the Ring off of Sauron's finger. Since Sauron's life-force was attached to the Ring, he fell with it, and the war was won."

"That sounds…complicated," she said, turning away from the sword and looking instead to the painting. Her eyes lingered on the Ring for a moment before turning back to Bilbo. "Was this the war Gandalf was talking about back at your house all those nights ago? The one where he said my ancestor Johnathan Ashburne was summoned to help?"

"I believe so," the Hobbit said, stepping up next to her.

"Huh," she said, scrutinizing the painting one more time. "I wonder what happened to him? Gandalf said there was no record of him appearing back in the mortal world…"

Bilbo shrugged, and Alison turned to look at him. "So, were you as lost as I was when I first showed up, or were you heading somewhere?"

"I didn't really have a destination in mind," he said. "I was just exploring. It's so…peaceful here."

She smiled gently. "I agree. There's just something about this place…there's not even words, really, to describe the feeling here."

"It reminds me of home, in a way," Bilbo said. "All the open space, the tranquility. Yet it's also extremely different."

"I know what you mean," she said. "Would you mind if I explored with you?"

"Of course not," he said, and he led the way out of the hallway into another courtyard, glancing back one last time at the painting before it was hidden from sight.

They wandered around for the rest of the morning, marveling at the House of Elrond while entertaining each other with stories from their lives. Bilbo listened in disbelief as Alison described a place she had always dreamed of going to in her world, called 'Manhattan', where apparently they had buildings as tall as the sky that twinkled with never-ceasing lights every night and where the inhabitants never slept. In turn, he told her of the first time he had met Gandalf when he was just a young Hobbit boy at Old Took's Midsummer's Eve party, and he had decided to attack the Wizard with a fake wooden sword until his mother had told him off for it. She found this story highly amusing, so they traded tales back and forth until high afternoon, when eventually she had to stop and sit down.

"Are you all right?" he asked concernedly as he sat down on the edge of a fountain beside her. She was holding on lightly to her upper abdomen, her tanned hand a deep contrast to the light green material of her dress that matched her eyes so well.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm supposed to feel discomfort as my ribs heal. If I didn't then that'd be a problem." She rolled her eyes at Bilbo's continued worried look. "Honestly, Bilbo, I'm fine. It's just a bruise."

Bilbo nodded, not exactly convinced, and they sat in silence for a while, listening to the wind in the trees, the distant roar of the waterfalls, and the much closer sound of the musical tinkling of the fountain behind them.

After a few minutes of comfortable relaxing, there was the hushed noise of a ghost of a footstep, and suddenly Lord Elrond appeared in one of the courtyard archways, wearing robes of a rich red trimmed in silver, with the same woven circlet upon his brow as he swept into the courtyard.

"Lady Ashburne," the Elven-lord said, inclining his head regally to her, and she bowed her own head in return. "Master Baggins," he continued, with a courteous nod to Bilbo, who stood up and bent slightly at the waist.

"If I may intrude, my Lady, but I wish to speak with Master Baggins for a moment," the Elf said, and Bilbo felt a slight rush of anxiety run through him. Alison looked taken aback for a second, but she nodded. "I don't mind."

Elrond looked questioningly to Bilbo, who swallowed somewhat nervously. "I don't mind, either."

"Good," Elrond said, and he gestured for Bilbo to follow him as he drifted back out of the courtyard.

Bilbo shot Alison a helpless look, but she only shrugged and grimaced back, as if to say, _I don't know. Just go with it. _So Bilbo sucked in a deep breath and trailed after the Elven-lord, leaving Alison alone in the courtyard.

Bilbo ventured down a hallway until he came out on a balcony terrace with a stunning view of many waterfalls falling into empty space, before meeting the ground and flowing into streams surrounding the Last Homely House. Elrond leaned against the balcony railing, the afternoon sunlight glinting off of his dark hair and illuminating his fair skin.

He looked up as Bilbo came over and leaned on the rail beside him, taking in the view. "Not with your other companions, I see?" the Elven-lord said, and Bilbo looked to him, a little caught off-guard at the question.

"Ah, I shan't be missed," he said, shrugging a little; when he noticed the Elven-lord gazing questioningly at him though, he decided to elaborate. "The truth is most of them don't think I should be on this journey."

"Indeed?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I've heard that Hobbits are very resilient."

Bilbo laughed uneasily, but when he looked back over at Elrond, he found the Elven-lord staring at him intently, completely serious. "Really?" he said, meeting the Elf's solemn gaze.

"Mmm," Elrond said, and Bilbo didn't know whether that was an agreement or no. "I've also heard that they're fond of the comforts of home."

Bilbo thought about that for a moment, feeling slightly confused about where this conversation was leading to. "And I've heard that it is unwise to seek the counsel of Elves, for they will answer both yes and no," he said eventually, looking back out to the waterfalls.

When Elrond didn't answer, though, Bilbo looked back to the Elf, wondering if he had crossed some line he hadn't been aware of. Elrond looked stern for a moment, but then his mouth twitched in a smile at Bilbo's words and he placed a slender, light-fingered hand on the Hobbit's shoulder.

"You are very welcome to stay here, if that is your wish," the Elven-lord said, and Bilbo looked to him, surprised at where the conversation had turned to. Elrond smiled once more, then he walked away, leaving Bilbo alone at the balcony.

The Elf's words left him spinning; stay? In Rivendell? Bilbo didn't know what to think. He had been chosen for this quest, and he would be abandoning the Company if he stayed behind. But did it matter? He had said so himself; most of them didn't think he should even be on the journey with them in the first place. So was it really a loss if he chose not to go any further? Bilbo stared at the waterfalls for the rest of the day, his thoughts tumbling as fast as the roaring waters flying above.

* * *

Alison felt a slight twinge of annoyance as Bilbo left the courtyard to follow Elrond and speak with the Elven-lord about…whatever it was they needed to talk about. She had quite enjoyed Bilbo's company that morning, swapping stories back and forth and just being content with one another's companionship. Now she was alone again, and she sighed, thinking about how stupid she'd look wandering aimlessly around the halls of the Last Homely House once more.

She looked behind her to the fountain, watching the spouts of water trickle into the pool below as the Elf-maiden depicted as the centerpiece held a pot as if she were pouring the water back into the fountain. She dipped her fingers into the water, hoping this wasn't some sort of sacred fountain or anything, and swirled her fingertips around, enjoying the cool and refreshing water on her skin. However, she almost toppled in as a voice suddenly spoke to her.

It was everywhere and nowhere at once; Alison could feel it in her mind, as if some unseen specter had slipped into her brain and was curling itself around her, whispering into her ear. The voice was ancient and heavenly, loud and soft, strong and serene at the same time, and she vaguely compared it to a voice of that of a goddess, for it was distinctly feminine. _We have waited many years for you to come to us, Alison Ashburne, _it said. _Now it is my turn to come to you._

Alison leaped to her feet, staring around wildly at the courtyard, but there was nobody there besides her and the fountain. "Who's there?" she demanded, and on some weird impulse she looked to the statue in the fountain as if expecting it to be the one talking.

"It gives me great heart to see you here, Maethor," came the voice from behind her, and Alison whirled around, her breath hitching in her throat as she saw a figure behind her, suddenly there as if she had been plucked from the air. And it was definitely a she as Alison took her in, her eyes widening at the radiance surrounding the other woman.

She was clearly an Elf; it was obvious from her tall and slender demeanor and pointy ears. But while the Elves of Rivendell radiated gentle power and were simply beautiful, this she-Elf was power all unto herself; she literally glowed with it, and if Alison had thought the Elves of Rivendell were angelic-looking, it was nothing compared to the haunting and breathtaking beauty of this she-Elf. This was the type of beauty that left women weeping in envy and made men launch wars.

She seemed to be made of starlight, with skin as fair as snow and long golden hair that seemed to be spun from the finest threads of silk, tumbling down past her waist and resting gently on the simple yet stunning white dress she wore. A silver circlet rested upon her fair brow, and her eyes were the deepest, most ancient blue Alison had ever seen, filled with a wisdom and power that could crumble worlds and bend even the gods to her will.

Alison was positive she had never seen this woman before in her life, but looking at her, she felt as if a memory long since buried had been uncovered, and she breathed out her name as if she had known it all her life: _"Galadriel."_

The she-Elf smiled gently at her. "Fate has come to pass, Alison Ashburne," she said in her powerful voice, and Alison resisted the urge to curl into the fetal position at the she-Elf's feet; she was so small, so small and meek compared to the might of the Lady Galadriel. "Your choosing by the Valar was foretold by the stars a thousand years ago, and your presence brings great hope, yet great loss."

"W—what do you mean?" she asked, her voice cracking from nervousness; why had the she-Elf sought her out? "I thought the Valar called on me because I was their only choice, I was the most eligible? I don't know how they could have chosen me from so long ago—"

"Your path was already forged when Eleon the First crossed the veil into your world," she said, beginning to circle around the courtyard in silent, smooth movements without taking her eyes off of Alison. "No one could have foreseen the consequences Eleon set in motion from that one simple mistake. Your world was never supposed to find out about ours; there is a reason we had kept you separate from us. But the Ashburne line has broken those boundaries, and as the Valar watch for conflict or strife in Middle-earth, they have allowed you to continue crossing the veil to help in times of need. But it is dangerous."

"Why?" Alison breathed, her heart beginning to pound.

"The Ashburnes have rewritten the course of history in this world," she said gravely. "And although the Valar can see far, far ahead into the mists of the future, it is constantly changing now, never certain, never stable, for your ancestors have upset the balance between this world and the other. It is impossible to see what lies ahead now."

Alison shook her head, her brain beginning to hurt from trying to process what Galadriel was saying. "Wait. But you said I give you great heart or whatever. How can you say that and then jump to talking about how I'm basically not supposed to be here because I'm upsetting the balance and the future and everything?"

"You do give me great heart, Maethor," Galadriel said gently. "Your path blazes as bright as a star. I have foreseen what you must do, though your ultimate fate is clouded from my sight. You will do a great many things on this quest. However, it is not the quest and your role in it that concerns me. It is your part in the greater tapestry of the world that bothers me."

"What? What tapestry? What role?" she demanded, her eyes widening.

"Blood calls to blood," Galadriel said. "A Shadow watches you, Maethor, a Shadow that will try to consume you. You must not succumb to it as your ancestors did. _You_ will have to be the light that sees in darkness, or I fear you will fall, and these two worlds with you. Something stirs, hidden from our sight, but your presence will awaken it, though I do not know what the outcome will be."

Alison felt as if she were slowly being strangled, a cold, rotten hand clamped down on her windpipe, torturing her as she listened to the she-Elf's dark words. "Why are you telling me this?" she whispered. "Why would you tell me that I will ultimately fail?"

"But you will not," Galadriel said firmly. "As Mithrandir so rightly said, you are the catalyst that will change everything. There is no telling exactly what the future may bring now. You have already touched so many fates in the short time you have been here. If you can influence them, you can shape your own. Everything has changed already; the future is now a game of chance."

"But why tell me this?" Alison said, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "'Blood calls to blood', 'the Shadow?' What does any of it mean?"

Galadriel shook her head. "I cannot say. But just remember that you _do_ have a choice, Maethor. You create your own destiny in the end. Fate is there merely as an outline."

"But none of this makes sense," she protested. "You can't just give me a few cryptic warnings about my future and then expect me to control my own fate. That's not fair!" Alison's initial shock was being replaced by a slow anger that surprised her; but she was tired of everyone talking about her fate as if it were beyond her control. She didn't care if it was. She wasn't going to listen anymore. This was _her_ life, _her _fate.

"But it is," Galadriel said. "If I told you everything, would you have the strength to continue? Could you go on, knowing the outcome, whether it be good or bad?" Alison stayed silent, her argument dying on her lips.

Galadriel was right; if Alison still wanted to go on this quest, it was better being in the dark. If she found out that she would ultimately fail in saving the line of Durin, she didn't want that baggage on her shoulders, that horrible sense of dread of knowing that no matter how hard she tried, she would lose everything in the end.

"You have courage, Maethor," Galadriel said gently. "A great courage that has long since been forsaken in this world. Use it wisely, for you have many challenges ahead of you. Do you believe you are ready to face them?"

Alison swallowed hard, nodding. Ever since she had come to Middle-earth, she had done things that she thought she could never have before. The fiery sense of determination she had been feeling since she came rose up in her, as well, filling her with new hope. "I do," she said, and she was relieved to find that her voice came out clear and strong.

Galadriel smiled again, her face brightening like the dawn breaking over the horizon. "Do not let fate define you, Maethor. Keep your heart steady, and you will be the greatest Hero of them all."

And with that, the she-Elf turned and began to drift away, leaving Alison alone as she tried to process what had just happened and Galadriel's abrupt departure. "Wait, Lady Galadriel!" she called. "What does 'Maethor' mean?"

But she had already disappeared into a haze of starlight.

Alison sat back down on the edge of the fountain, her legs shaky as mind-numbing fear and red-hot hope burned and raged inside of her, fighting against each other as she realized how very _real_ all of this suddenly was. This wasn't just an adventure around Middle-earth; she was going to fight a dragon, she was going to be caught in a _war. _And from what Galadriel had been saying, her journey doesn't end there. "Blood calls to blood". "The Shadow". What did that _mean? _

"_You have courage, Maethor," _she had said. _"You will be the greatest Hero of them all."_ She let Galadriel's words wash over her, repeating them to herself over and over again until the fear subsided. She was a warrior, a Hero; she could do this. She had to.

_Maethor, _Galadriel's voice whispered to her, and Alison almost pitched herself into the fountain again, startled at the she-Elf's voice. _It means 'warrior'._

* * *

Kili shook his wet hair out of his eyes as he bent down to re-do his boot straps, listening in amusement as the rest of the Company splashed and roared behind him as they "bathed" in the large outdoor fountain located on the skirts of the House of Elrond. Kili wasn't sure if it was acceptable to use the fountain as a bath, but it hadn't stopped the Dwarves from skimming down to their bare hides and quickly taking advantage of the spacious fountain.

He stood up and tugged on his undershirt as there was a particularly loud splash behind him, and he turned, seeing Dwalin roaring in victory as Dori fumbled to the surface, choking out water before instigating Dwalin into another wrestling match.

Kili grinned and shook his head, laying out his over-clothes and cloak to dry in the sun, fervently thinking he had been smart to get out when he had before Dwalin could put him in a headlock and dunk him under the water much as he was doing to Dori then.

He looked up as Fili approached, jerking his head to his brother as he got back to his feet from his previous crouching position. "Where've you been?" he asked, as Fili came closer and nodded his own head in return.

"I was getting this re-sharpened," he replied, pointing to his great iron sword as he placed it gently on the ground and began to remove the other various weapons from his clothes, placing them into a neat pile.

"Huh," Kili said. "I didn't know they had that sort of thing here."

"'Course they do," his brother said, shrugging off his thick fur overcoat. "They're actually not that bad; though nothing compared to Ered Luin, I might add."

Kili nodded distractedly, observing his older brother. "Are you all right?" he asked, as Fili avoided his eyes. "You seem…distant lately."

"I'm fine, Kili," he said, still not meeting his eyes.

"Is this about the Elf thing last night at dinner?" Kili said, grinning. "'Cause if it is, I was just messing around, Fili. I have no preference for Elves—"

"It's not your preference for Elves that's bothering me," Fili said, finally meeting his brother's eyes. Kili was surprised to see how serious they looked. "It's your preference for humans that bothers me."

"What do you—oh," Kili said, his eyes widening as it hit what his brother was saying. "Are you talking about Alison? Fili, you can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious, Kili," Fili said sternly. "I don't care how secretive you think you're being; I know you, and I've noticed the way you look at her."

"And how do I look at her?" Kili asked, his bemusement vanishing and being replaced by bafflement.

"You just have this…_light _in your eyes," his brother said, shaking his head. "When she walked into the pavilion last night, you couldn't keep your eyes off her. And it's not good, Kili. You're a Dwarf, and she's a human from another world. It could never work—"

"What, so is it frowned upon to look at someone with a certain 'light' in their eyes now?" Kili said sarcastically, cutting off his brother.

Fili looked to him with a frown. "Don't turn this into a joke, Kili. I'm being serious."

"So am I," Kili retorted. "Honestly, do you really think I'd be interested in a human? I'll admit, she's pretty for a human, but I'm not stupid. I know what I am and what she is. It would never work anyways, even if I did have interest in her."

Fili didn't look convinced, and suddenly a thought struck Kili, causing him to grin widely. "_You _like her, don't you?"

Fili looked at him sharply. "_What? _No, I don't."

"You do," Kili said, grinning more broadly. "Why else would you be asking me about her? You're telling me to stay away from her because _you _want her. Mahal above, this is so great—"

"Kili!" Fili snapped. "I do not like Alison! She's our companion, and she's our friend. Nothing more. It's just too weird, with her being a human and all."

"So…you're saying if she was a Dwarf, then you'd like her?"

"I. Do not. Like. Alison." He enunciated coldly. "She's a friend. Nothing else."

"All right, whatever you say," Kili said with a cheeky grin. "But I'll be watching you." He laughed at the half-angry, half-stupefied look on his brother's face as he walked away, jogging up a small staircase and wandering back to their campsite to look for some Old Toby and his pipe.

Despite his ability to play off such an awkward question, Kili felt slightly uneasy over the weird conversation he had just had with his brother. A few weeks ago, if someone had told him he'd start liking a human, he probably would've laughed in their face and maybe punched them before shrugging it off and going to get an ale; now, he wasn't so sure.

He was aware that he had always been pretty reckless, whether it came to fighting or even feelings, but this was something on a whole other level. He'd always been cocky and flirty with the Dwarven women back home, and in some ways, he even found Elf-women attractive. But Alison was another category all her own.

Kili had been intrigued by her since he had first met her, with her being a human and from another world and everything. He liked her sarcasm, for it melded with his own cheeky personality and he liked to banter, but he also liked her serious side. The faraway look she'd get in her eyes as she talked about her family or her home, or the way she had tilted her head to the side, her face open and earnest, when she had talked to him after he apologized for letting her get caught by the trolls; it captivated him, and he found himself being slowly drawn in towards her. And when he had seen her last night, in that dress and walking with her head slightly down, as if she were self-conscious, and her bright green eyes full of light as she joined in the dwarves' revelry, he began to suspect something more than just a flirtatious game with her. And it scared him.

As Fili had so rightly said, he was a Dwarf, and she was something else entirely. It would never work. And what if he became too attached, and something were to happen to her? The thought pained him in a strange way.

_All right, _he thought to himself, as he walked along, head down. _All right, all you need to do is distance yourself a little bit. You're overreacting. You don't feel anything more than friendship towards her, and you know she doesn't feel anything back. So everything will be back to normal in no time. Just stay away—_

Not paying attention to where he was going, Kili didn't even realize he was on a collision course with another person walking until he smashed right into them, eliciting a sharp "Ow!" from the other person.

Kili looked up, about to apologize gruffly to whatever Elf he had run into, when the words died in his throat as he met a pair of ice-green eyes, and his heart sank as he realized it was Alison.

_Oh, Mahal._

* * *

Alison was hopelessly lost. Again.

After regaining her composure from the cryptic talk she had had with the Lady Galadriel, she had begun to walk around once more, looking for anyone or anything to keep her mind off of the thoughts swirling around in her head.

She didn't know how Galadriel knew these things about the Shadow and her destiny or whatnot, but she trusted the she-Elf's advice. She did not seem like a deceiver, and she had said everything with such conviction that Alison knew it wasn't a hoax. But she didn't want to think about it right then. She wanted just a few more days of comfort before she was thrust back out into the world of danger and constant stress.

So she ambled about for a few more hours, singing songs to herself and swishing along the skirts of her dress. She wished she had her normal clothes back, but the Elf-maids had taken them to be washed that morning and they hadn't been returned since, leaving Alison with the light and gauzy wardrobe of the Elves. The dresses were pretty enough, but they were too frothy for her taste, and not to mention more breezy downstairs, so to speak.

When the sun began its descent from its high point in the sky, Alison had already accepted defeat of trying to get back to her rooms by herself and was looking for an Elf to help her when she was suddenly knocked into from the side.

The impact jarred her ribs, and she snapped "Ow!" before thinking to keep her mouth shut. She whirled around, about to tell off whoever had so carelessly run into her, when she stopped suddenly, realizing it was Kili.

"Oh. Kili, it's you," she said, her irritation ebbing away as she saw the dwarf prince behind her. His dark eyes looked panicked for a moment, until it was gone and replaced by his usual cheeky grin and mischievous gleam.

"Kili?" he said in mock confusion, furrowing his brows. "Kili…oh, are you talking about the Dwarf with the dark hair and the shockingly handsome features? Yeah, I believe that's me."

Alison rolled her eyes playfully. "Wow, someone has a high opinion of themselves."

"I have to," he said. "Since no one else seems to appreciate how good-looking I am."

She laughed at that, wincing slightly as her already-jarred ribs twinged more. "I'm fine," she said, before Kili could ask her what's wrong. "I'm supposed to feel a little discomfort. Nothing I can't handle."

He closed his mouth, nodding, and she noticed then that his hair was wet and all of his armor was missing, leaving him in a dark gray tunic, pants, and boots. He also looked distinctly cleaner, the dirt and travel stains on his body removed. Alison thought he looked kind of strange without his armor or over-clothes or weapons, but she also liked it; it made him look less severe and bulky.

"Did you take a bath?" she asked.

"What? Surprised at my natural skin tone?" he said, his mouth quirked into a grin.

"Astounded," she replied. "Is that where everyone else is?"

"Uh huh," he said. "I wouldn't go wandering after them yet, though. Dwarves can be a little…rowdy when cleaning, and I don't think you'd really want to see that."

"Ugh, no thanks," she said, shuddering a little at the image that came to mind. "I'm already scarred enough from seeing them roasting on a spit in their underclothes."

He laughed, raking his wet hair out of his eyes. "So, what have you been doing today, wandering around all by yourself?"

Alison felt a slight flare of panic in her chest as she remembered her dark conversation with Galadriel earlier, but she quickly squashed it; she knew what she had to do, and this she had to keep to herself. "Oh, you know," she waved her hand vaguely. "Just enjoying the peace while I can. Trying to heal. Where are you off to?"

"I was going off for a little smoke," he said, shrugging. "It's quite overwhelming with the others when Dwalin keeps trying to strangle you in the bathwater."

"_Way _too much information," she said in horror. "Are you trying to give me more nightmares?"

"Sorry," he said, chuckling. "I just wanted you to imagine how I feel when he—"

"Stop," she said, trying to keep those images away from her brain and holding up a hand. "Just stop right there."

He chuckled again, then gestured for her to follow him as he went off back to their campsite. She followed, shaking her head with a small grin on her face.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until they came to the veranda where the Company was staying, and Alison looked to him in incredulity. "How did you find this place without getting lost?"

Kili shrugged, kneeling to search through his travel pack and removing a pipe and some leaves. He didn't start smoking yet, though, which Alison was relieved by; she didn't particularly approve of it. "There are some people in this world who aren't as directionally challenged as you, Alison," he joked, and she huffed in mock indignation.

"If you're just going to insult me, I guess I can just leave," she said, and spun around, planning to walk away as a joke, when she suddenly stopped, almost bending double and gasping. The quick movement of her torso had upset her ribs, and they began to throb until the herbs kicked in again and faded the pain to a dull ache once more.

"Alison, what happened? Are you all right?" Kili said from beside her, placing a light hand on her shoulder. "Do I need to send for help?"

"No," she said, gritting her teeth and straightening up slowly, careful not to jar her injury again. "I'm fine. Now I know not to move like that anymore." She caught the look on his face and scowled. "Seriously Kili, I'm fine. The herbs are working again. It was just a twinge."

"Don't be thick," he said. "That sounded like it really hurt. Where do you feel pain?"

"Nowhere. I told you, I'm fine—"

"Alison—"

"I'm _fine_—"

She made to move past him, but he blocked her way, and before she could open her mouth to insist she was truly okay, he placed a hand on her abdomen, lightly, carefully, and her breath hitched in surprise at his unexpected touch.

Alison looked up from where his hand was resting on her stomach and locked gazes with him, her lips parted in a silent _oh. _His dark eyes gleamed, still mischievously, still cheeky, but there was a deep light in them as well, along with a flicker of surprise, as if he didn't know what had just made him do that, either.

"Where do you feel pain?" he repeated in a low voice, and Alison's heart began to beat fast, nervousness pinging around inside her like a pin-ball. She couldn't speak for several moments, still looking into his eyes.

"I—" she whispered. "Um…higher."

He moved his hand upward, until it was resting gently on the bottom of her rib cage, and there was a pool of heat where his palm connected with the gauzy material of her dress. Every nerve in her body seemed to scream and pinpoint to the location of his large hand, solid and warm on her abdomen, and she gulped as his eyes burned into hers. "Here?" he asked softly, and she nodded, unsure of what exactly was transpiring at that moment and feeling her composure fraying at his prolonged contact and nearness.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked, in that same low voice, and she shook her head. They stared at each other for a few minutes more, until suddenly there was the noise of a throat being cleared from behind them.

"Um, am I…uh, interrupting something?" They leaped apart as if they had been burned, and Alison turned to see Bilbo standing in the entryway to the veranda, looking very red in the face and extremely awkward.

"Bilbo!" Alison exclaimed hastily, positive that her face was burning as red as Bilbo's, if not even redder. "We were—he was—I—checking my injury," she said lamely, as Kili stared at the Hobbit as if he were a ghost.

There was a tense and horribly uncomfortable silence, until Alison coughed, seeming to break the spell as Bilbo shook his head and Kili blinked as if he had been stuck in a dark cave and was seeing the sun again for the first time.

"Well, I'm just—uh, I should…bye," she all but squeaked, and without another look at either of them, she hurried out of the veranda, practically running as she passed through the Elven halls, her mind whirling like a tornado.

By some unseen force of nature, she somehow ended up outside of her rooms and ducked inside, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it, her face still hot and her heart beating rapidly.

"What. The. _Fuck." _She said out loud, grabbing her face in her hands. "What the hell just happened?"

Her—Kili—what—

_No, _she thought firmly. _No, no, no, no, no, NO. That was definitely not what I think it was. He's your friend, he's like the annoying best guy friend you've never had. He's like your brother. And he's a Dwarf, and you're a human, not even from the same world as him. It could never work, and it won't ever work because you have no interest in him. At all. So don't freak out. It was just a curious moment, nothing more. _

Alison breathed in deeply, and exhaled slowly. She was beginning to calm down, but her nerves still pulsed from where he had touched her. As if in a daze, she crossed over to her bed and clambered onto it, wrapping herself up in her sheets and groaning.

She didn't like Kili in that way, and she knew it. He was just a friend, and no doubt he viewed her in the same way. He had merely been trying to locate her pain and alleviate it, nothing more. And besides, what would he see in her anyway? It was obvious he was drawn to more glamorous things than her, after remembering his flirting with the Elf-maid at dinner the night before. And what did she care? She didn't like him. Being honest, he was pretty handsome, but she wasn't interested in him like that. No, she wasn't.

But as she lay there thinking about it, an image of Fili popped into her head, and she felt a surge of guilt as she pictured his face, so fair compared to the darkness of his brother. And then she felt confusion for feeling guilty. Why was thinking about Kili making her feel guilty about _Fili?_

_Okay, fine, _she thought. _Fili's handsome too. Both brothers are good-looking. Now get yourself together, because you have no interest in either of them. They're just friends. All of you are just friends. That's it. Now that we have that established, stop thinking about it. You're freaking out over nothing. _

But no matter how hard she tried to not think about it, her mind would just drift right back to their faces; Kili, his dark eyes burning as he met her gaze; Fili, as his stormy eyes softened after pulling her out of the river, and the way his face had shined so perfectly in the moonlight that one night she had laid next to him…

The thoughts kept coming, one after another, and as the moonlight crept into her room, she still lay awake, her mind buzzing round and round. Finally, she grabbed a pillow and buried her face into it, screaming in frustration into the soft downy feathers and thinking one thing as she screamed:

_I am so screwed._

* * *

**Who likes awkward sexual tension? I do! Who likes finding out really cryptic stuff that changes a character's perspective on what they're doing? I mean, I guess...**

**So now we have some layers adding up oooh. And maybe I dropped a hint in this chapter? Or several? Who knows. I like mystery:)**

**Anyway, a big thank you again to all of my reviewers, I love you all! So, as usual, keep them coming, and thank you for reading and just being awesome readers!:) Thank you, lovelies! Until next chapter...**


	12. 12: The Fallen

**I'm baaaack! I'm so sorry I didn't live up to my astounding updating skills with this chapter, but 1) I was stuck at my grandma's house with no Wi-fi for two days, and 2) This chapter...ah man, this chapter. I can't even begin to describe how glad I am that we are out of Rivendell. Though a lot of stuff went down in these last few chapters, the whole pacing and everything was just...ugh. It threw me off completely. But after this we are back in business, and I am so excited as we reach the last few stretches of AUJ and cross into DoS, because I have SO MUCH planned!:)**

**Oh, and a little A/N: I know I made their journey from the Shire to Rivendell seem like one week, but just pretend it was several more weeks for the sake of the plot. Thanks! **

**But anyway. Thank you for being patient, and for all of your reviews last time! They make me so happy:)**

**So here is Chapter 12, and I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading!:)**

* * *

Chapter Twelve: The Fallen

Thorin lay awake as dawn light filtered through the gauzy curtains of his rooms, bathing everything in a rosy glow as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to get his thoughts together. They had been in Rivendell for a week already, and they had entered into the month of June, which panicked him greatly; they needed to leave _now _if they wanted to reach the Mountain by Durin's Day. The road would become harder to travel as they entered autumn, and it would slow them down, which was something they couldn't afford.

He had barely slept all week, too consumed in his worries and thoughts to be allowed to fall into the blissful oblivion of nothing. And when he did manage to sleep some, his dreams were haunted by nightmares and memories, blending together into a symphony of fear and panic until he couldn't distinguish what was real or what was imagined. And then he would wake up in a cold sweat and go back to thinking about what lay ahead of them in the coming weeks.

That was what he was doing that morning as the sun slowly rose from its waking place on the horizon, and he was so wrapped up in thinking that he barely registered the knock on his bedroom door.

"Coming," he grumbled, pulling on his blue tunic from where he had tossed it to the floor last night and crossing the room to the door. He scowled, wondering what the Elves wanted from him so early in the morning, but as he jerked the door open he was taken aback by the appearance of Gandalf.

The Wizard had been strangely absent for most of their stay in Rivendell, only appearing at meal-times—and even those rarely—so Thorin was slightly surprised to see him randomly at his door.

"Gandalf," Thorin said, stepping back and allowing the Wizard into his rooms. "What bodes on your mind for you to come to me so early?" He shut the door behind him as Gandalf took a seat in one of the plush armchairs in the center of the room, lighting his pipe and beginning to puff on it.

Thorin took out his own and lit it as he sat in the chair across from Gandalf, and he took a long drag as Gandalf met his eyes.

"You must leave tonight," the Wizard said without preamble, and Thorin raised an eyebrow. "I have spoken to Miss Ashburne and she says that she is ready to journey again, as her ribs are now fully healed."

"Well, that's good," Thorin said. "But why was this so important to come to me about at this time?"

"Because, we need to discuss a few things about your departure," Gandalf replied, blowing a smoke ring almost absent-mindedly.

"'_Your' _departure?" Thorin echoed. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"Not at this moment," the Wizard said. "Though I do plan on catching up. But there are still a few things I must do before I can rejoin you."

"Like?" Thorin prompted.

"An order of business which I must see to here," he answered, and Thorin inwardly sighed, knowing he would get a sort of vague answer like that.

"Elrond will try to stop us," Thorin said, and Gandalf nodded.

"Which is why you must leave in secrecy," he said, and Thorin leaned forward, now interested in what the Wizard was saying.

"What are you proposing?"

"I believe Elrond has summoned the Lady Galadriel and Saruman the White for a meeting of the White Council, which will take place tonight. He and I will be there, and then you have an opportunity to get away unseen and continue on with your journey. After the Council is adjourned, I will make after you for the Misty Mountains and from there we will then travel on to the Lonely Mountain."

Thorin thought for a minute, his head wreathed in smoke. "I like it," he said finally. "But there is still the problem of Elrond's lackey, that Lindir fellow. He has been hovering around us all our stay, keeping an eye on us, whether by Elrond's orders or his own preconceived notions. No doubt he will be waiting for something like this to happen."

Gandalf shook his head. "Luck is on our side tonight. Lindir is ordered to be waiting at the South Gate for the arrival of Saruman from Isengard. You will be leaving through the North Gate, the path which will take you north to the High Pass. Balin knows those paths through the wilderness as well as I do, and he can lead you in my stead."

Thorin nodded. "All right then," he said. "We will leave tonight at midnight. Where will you be joining us in the Mountains?"

"Wherever I find you," the Wizard said, smiling wryly as he put out his pipe and tucked it back into his cloak. "But you must not leave the Mountains until I join you; that is my only request."

Thorin nodded again. "Then we have a plan," he said, and Gandalf nodded as well, standing up from his seat.

"Tell the others today, and let them know they need to be prepared by nightfall," the Wizard said, sweeping towards the door. "And do try to keep discrete about it."

Thorin said nothing as the door swung closed behind the Wizard, putting out his own pipe and standing up. Now that he knew they were leaving that night, a sense of newfound energy and vigor took hold of him, and he pulled on his boots before going off in search of the others, a feeling of relief buoying him up now that they had a plan.

He came to the veranda where the Company was sleeping just as the sun broke over the high cliff-faces sheltering the valley, and as he entered he saw that everyone was still sleeping save for Nori and Glóin, who were sitting in a corner quietly playing cards.

They looked up as he came over to them, nodding their heads in silent greeting as he sat down, nodding back. "We're leaving tonight," Thorin said, as Nori shuffled the pack of playing cards and distributed them evenly amongst the three now that Thorin had joined. They looked to him in interest and relief, obviously as happy as he was that they were getting away from this quiet Elven place. "Nori, you will be in charge of getting provisions for us today; food, water-skins, anything we're missing. But be discrete; no one must know that we are leaving."

Nori nodded, looking pleased at the prospect of stealing under the Elves' noses one last time, and they sat in silence for another half-hour, playing cards as the other members of the Company slowly began to stir. Bombur began to fry some eggs and bacon as the other Dwarves and the Hobbit roused from their bedrolls. Glóin went over and began to tell the others they were leaving that night as Nori snuck out of the veranda, already starting his task of collecting supplies for all of them.

Thorin ambled over to where the Company was assembled beside their small cooking fire, chatting and yawning as the delicious aroma of food wrapped around them, and Thorin's stomach growled. He had barely eaten since he had first found out about the Durin's Day deadline, but now his hunger was returning full-force as some of the panic that had gripped him all week dissipated at their imminent departure.

He sat down beside Fili and Kili, who were both still blinking sleepily, and they nodded to him. "Morning, Uncle," Fili said, stifling a huge yawn.

"Morning," Thorin replied, grinning as Kili nearly slumped over to doze again. Thorin clapped him on the shoulder, and the younger Dwarf jerked upright again with a crisp "Morning", blinking hard against his drowsiness.

"We're leaving tonight," Thorin said. "Make sure you're ready to go by nightfall."

The two princes nodded again just as Bilbo walked up. "So it's true, then?" the Hobbit asked. "We are leaving tonight?"

"You are correct, Master Baggins," Thorin said. "Is there a problem?" he added, as he caught the anxious look on Bilbo's face. He seemed conflicted, as if weighing two options, but he started at Thorin's question, shaking his head rapidly.

"Oh, no," he said quickly. "There's no problem at all. I was just making sure it was true we were, in fact, leaving tonight."

"Well, we are," Thorin said, suspicious about the Hobbit's attitude. But he decided to let it go; if Bilbo was fonder of the comfort of Rivendell compared to the idea of adventure, then Thorin would not force a decision on him. Bilbo needed to work out his conflict on his own, and soon.

Bilbo nodded once more, shooting an almost uncomfortable glance at Kili before walking away again. Thorin looked to his youngest nephew questioningly as he realized that Kili's cheeks had the slightest tinge of pink.

"Anything you want to share with me?" Thorin asked, and Kili shook his head, the faint blush fading.

"Nothing," he said, staring adamantly ahead, and Thorin continued to give him a peculiar look until he decided that whatever was going on between the Dwarf prince and the Hobbit, he didn't want to get in the middle of, so he turned away to see Alison entering into the veranda.

She was dressed in her normal clothes again, though without her jacket, leaving her only in her black shirt, odd pants and boots, which Thorin was thankful for. The dresses had been too much for him to handle, and it had reminded him uncomfortably of her status among them, which had led to further discomfort over remembering why she was with them in the first place.

Pushing his discomfort aside, Thorin beckoned her over, and she crossed the veranda warily, her eyes determinedly forward as she came to a stop before the trio.

Wondering what in the name of Durin was getting into everybody that was making them all so uncomfortable, Thorin cleared his throat until she looked to him, though she focused solely on him, her eyes stubbornly trying not to look to his sides, which he found strange.

"I hear your injury is healed," he said, and she nodded, her loose brown hair falling into her face as she did so. "Good. We're leaving tonight to make for the Mountain Pass; be prepared with your things by nightfall, and meet us here before midnight."

"Got it," she said, flicking back her hair and still refusing to look to either side of him, which Thorin was beginning to find annoying.

"Also, since you are now healed, your training will resume this evening with Fili before we go," he added.

She nodded, bestowing a quick glance at Fili before saying, "Is that all?"

"It is," he said, and she nodded again respectfully before going off to join Bombur at the fire. Thorin watched for a minute as she worked with the ginger Dwarf on breakfast, and he realized that this whole week she had been a constant attachment to the Brothers Ur; which wasn't weird, considering how well she got on with them, but she had also been very estranged from his nephews at the same time. That didn't bother him very much; he had been unnerved at how fast a bond had formed between the three, and he thought it was better if they had no deep personal attachments to her, but this tension was too much; he could literally feel his skin prickling with it.

"All right," he said suddenly to his nephews. "What's going on?"

Fili looked to him in surprise. "Nothing, as far as I'm concerned. Why?"

"Have you not noticed Miss Ashburne's peculiar behavior?" Thorin said, and Fili shook his head in confusion. "I've seen that she hasn't been around you both much in the past week."

"I've noticed that, too," Fili said. "But I didn't say or do anything…"

He trailed off, and in unison, they both turned to look at Kili, who had been sitting quietly beside them this whole time. He looked over, though, as Thorin and Fili both stared at him suspiciously.

"What?" he said in indignation. "Why does everyone assume it's always _me?"_

"Because you're rash and you don't think before rushing into whatever you're doing," Fili said. "What did you say to her, Kili? She looks like she wants to run away every time we're in her presence, and she hasn't spoken to us in days. _What did you do?"_

"I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed hastily. "I just—we—"

But Fili cut him off with a groan. "Kili, I _told _you to stay away from her, this isn't good—"

"Hold on," Thorin said, raising a hand. "'Stay away from her?' What do you mean? Kili, you're not—"

"I don't like her!" he said hotly. "No matter what Fili thinks, I don't."

Thorin's discomfort increased tenfold as he began to cotton on to where the conversation was leading to. He bit back a curse, suddenly wishing that Dis was there; this was her sort of area to talk about, and Thorin felt like he was crossing into dangerous, uncharted territory as he cleared his throat.

"Both of you will listen to me," he said quietly, so the others in the group couldn't hear him, and they leaned in with some trepidation to hear him better. "I don't know what is going on between you two and Miss Ashburne, nor do I particularly care unless it escalates to a fully-fledged conflict. But she has a purpose on this quest, as do the both of you, and I do not mind you forming friendships with her; however, anything beyond that I will not tolerate. You are the next heirs to the throne of Durin, and she is a warrior; though your paths may be entwined now, it is doubtful they will continue to be that way in the future. We are on this quest for one objective, and I cannot afford to have you distracted by some…_infatuation_ with a human girl. So before you begin to form deep attachments, just remember your place in the world, and remember hers. Do we have an understanding?"

He looked to both of them seriously, and they nodded, though Fili looked like he wanted to object at the fact he had been pulled into that conversation when it had only been Kili that was involved in the situation. Fortunately, he had the tact not to say anything about it.

Thorin relaxed a bit after his statement, hoping that they had listened to him and understood; he had had no experience whatsoever with this sort of thing before, and it was highly disconcerting trying to talk about it as if he knew what he was saying.

He turned to Kili, who was fiddling with his cloak sleeves, his face expressionless. "What happened between you and Miss Ashburne can remain between the two of you, but I expect you to apologize for whatever you did. Resolve your differences today, because I will not have your problems plaguing us for the rest of this journey. Are we clear?"

Kili nodded once more. "Yes, Uncle," he said tonelessly.

Thorin gazed at his younger nephew for a few moments more, until Bombur began passing around breakfast and their discussion was broken up. Thorin clapped Kili on the shoulder once more before standing up to go get his plate, and Fili went with him, seemingly lost in thought.

"You're worried for him," Thorin stated, reading the frown lines on the blonde Dwarf's face.

Fili looked up from his faraway staring. "Of course I am," he said, as they made their way to the campfire. "He's just being reckless, as usual, and I don't want to see him get too attached only to have her leave him once our quest is finished. And I also want to spare her; Kili is used to leading women on for a short while, but I'm afraid he's going to push this and then back out when she comes around to him. It's just how he works."

Thorin nodded thoughtfully. "I understand," he said. "Let's just hope Kili comes to his senses and Miss Ashburne isn't easily courted." Fili acknowledged this with a nod, and Thorin looked to him out of the corner of his eye. "Do I need to be concerned about your sentiments to her, as well?"

Fili glanced at him with a sharp look. "I view her as only a friend," he said stiffly, and Thorin let the subject drop as Bombur handed them plates loaded with eggs and bacon; his head was beginning to pound from trying to process all this "sentimental" stuff, and he detested even thinking of these sorts of things.

As he and Fili went to go sit back down, Kili passed them moving in the opposite direction, and Thorin saw his youngest nephew making for Alison, who was handing Bifur a plate with a bright smile.

Thorin watched as Kili approached her, but as they began to speak, he averted his eyes, not wanting to intrude on their privacy. As he worked his way through eating breakfast, he kept happy at the thought that they were leaving tonight and would finally be able to start their journey again.

Even the sight of Lindir lurking outside of the veranda could not squash his optimism, and he smirked widely at the Elf, who narrowed his eyes at the Dwarf King before disappearing in a swirl of azure robes.

* * *

When Alison had awoken that morning, it was to find that the discomfort of her ribs she had been experiencing all that week had finally subsided, and when Alawë had come in at the crack of dawn to check, she had unwrapped her bindings around her torso to find only a few patches of bruises here and there, but other than that she was completely healed.

Alison was relieved to find out she was good to go; after getting used to the serenity of Rivendell the past few days, she was suddenly wishing to be out and about again, on the move. Though Rivendell was relaxing and plentiful with things they needed, the repetitive lifestyle of peace and drifting along reminded her forcibly of home, where nothing changed and she was stuck in the endless cycle of consistency. The open road was where she wanted to be, where nothing was predictable and she could just be free.

And though she would never admit this out loud, she also wanted to leave behind everything that had happened here so far, like Galadriel's warnings of the Shadow and her future, and not to mention the whole Kili fiasco.

She still didn't know what to make of it; she knew she felt nothing for the younger Dwarf prince stronger than friendship, and that he most likely didn't feel the same way, but still she remembered the pressure and warmth of his hand, the way his eyes had burned when she looked at him. It had been awkward being around him all week, and Bilbo, at that. The three had barely said more than two words to each other, and despite the compromising situation they had been placed in, Alison yearned for their friendship again. She missed Fili, too; since him and Kili were a constant attachment, she hadn't really been able to approach him without trying to ignore Kili.

But Alison was tired of floating along without them. She had been associating more with the other Dwarves in their absence, and though she liked them well enough, she missed the easy camaraderie between her and the two Dwarf princes and the trusting friendship of Bilbo.

So when Alawë left her rooms that morning after clearing Alison's health and giving back her traveling clothes (which Alison wondered where they had been for the whole week, and if they had really been that dirty), she decided to just suck it up and move on from it so they could all be friends again. But when she had gone to the veranda with the intention of apologizing for her avoidance of them, she had to hold out a bit longer due to the presence of Thorin beside Fili and Kili; she definitely did _not _want the Dwarf king to know what had happened, whatever it had been.

She was helping Bombur pass out plates of breakfast to the rest of the Company when she turned around, almost slamming into Kili and knocking the plate she was holding out of her hands.

"Oh, crap, sorry," she said, steadying the plate at the last second before all the food was dumped to the ground.

"Don't be, I was the one who snuck up on you like that," he said, and she met his eyes carefully, gauging his emotions. His face was normal, split into that signature half-grin, and his eyes were equally neutral, glinting mischievously as always, no hint whatsoever of any burning depths.

Alison saw him take a deep breath and open his mouth, but before he could say anything, she blurted out, "Listen, about that situation…I know it was nothing. You were just seeing if I was okay, and I'm sorry for overreacting and running off like that. And then about the whole avoiding thing, I'm sorry about that, too. You didn't deserve it, and to be honest, this whole thing was really stupid, and _I _was stupid, so let's just…forget about it and move on, okay?" The words came rushing out, and she didn't meet his eyes while saying it; apologies had never been one of her strong suits.

It was silent for a few heartbeats, and she chanced a glance at him. His mouth was still open, like he was going to say something, and he seemed a bit surprised, but there was no trace of accusation or irritation at her past behavior like she had been expecting.

"I agree," he said eventually. "It was stupid, and we should move on from it. But I'm sorry for overstepping my boundaries like that and making you uncomfortable. That was not my intention."

"It's fine," she said. "Seriously, I'm over it." She smiled, and he grinned back, and it was suddenly like all the tension and awkwardness between them had vanished, like morning dew in the sunlight. "Are you hungry?" She held out the plate to him, and he took it gratefully.

"Starving," he replied, already shoving two whole pieces of bacon in his mouth as he said it.

"Obviously," she joked, watching him chew with a mildly disgusted look. "Go sit down, I'll join you in a second." He nodded, his mouth now too full to speak, and she rolled her eyes, accepting the plate Bombur handed her with thanks.

Now that her and Kili had stumbled back to even ground, her heart felt much lighter as she went over to sit with him, Thorin, and Fili, and she was in a significantly better mood that morning than she had been the whole week.

As she sat down, she noticed Thorin and Fili looking at her strangely, but when she looked back to them their faces were expressionless again as they chewed their food.

"So," she said brightly to Fili, choosing to ignore their looks. "What are you training me with tonight?"

He looked up from his plate, swallowing before answering. "Swords," he said, gesturing to the two great iron blades strapped to his back. "You need to be trained in all different areas of combat, because you never know what you'll end up with in a fight. And knowing how to fight with varying weapons can increase your chances of survival dramatically."

She nodded, looking with some trepidation to his swords. "Am I even going to be able to lift that?"

"Well, you're certainly going to try," he said, grinning, and she quirked a smile at him in return; the veil of tension that had been separating them all week had been lifted, and she was just happy to have her friends back again. "You _might _pull a muscle or two, but it's nothing you can't handle."

"Just _might?" _she said. "That thing looks like it could make my arm come out of its socket!"

"Look at it this way," he said. "At least then you'll have a true warrior name: Alison the Armless. I think it has a nice ring to it, don't you?"

"Shut up," she laughed, tossing a bit of egg to him. He dodged it, grinning, and her, Fili, and Kili spent the rest of the morning throwing varying things at each other and laughing as they messed around while Thorin looked on, silent and expressionless.

Eventually they wound down by mid-afternoon, when they began to help Nori pack up supplies he had apparently stolen from the Elves. Alison had already finished packing her supplies and left her backpack with Bofur when Thorin approached her, as brooding as ever.

"Do me a favor," he said gruffly, and she looked to him. "Since you're done with your packing, I want you to go and keep an eye out for Lindir. I know he suspects something, and I don't want him lurking around to see what we're up to."

She nodded. "On it," she said, but she was stopped suddenly by him grasping her upper arm; not tightly, but enough to make her turn and look at him in surprise as he leaned in close to her ear so only she could hear.

"I have warned my nephews of this already, and now I feel it is time to warn you," he said quietly. "Do not form deep attachments to them; you are here for a specific purpose, and so are they. See to it that nothing permanent forms between you, for you are merely temporary in this world."

His breath tickled her ear, and she shivered, not from pleasure, but from how cold and warning his tone was. "Don't worry," she said. "There's no need to concern yourself over something as expendable as me."

And with that, she tugged her arm out of his grip and stalked away, feeling anger and mortification boiling inside of her. How _dare _he say that? That she was only "temporary?" And just when she thought they were on mutual ground, he had to yank the rug out from underneath her and tell her how she was basically easily replaced and not worth the effort.

_Of course, _she thought bitterly. _He only sees me as the "expendable warrior", sent to do the Valar's bidding and then return home once I'm done helping them on their quest. I'm nothing more than that; no wonder why he doesn't want strings attached. I'll be gone anyway._

Though Alison knew what Thorin was thinking, it didn't make his comment feel any less biting. And why was he telling her to not form attachments with only Fili and Kili? Everyone else she was friends with, and he didn't seem bothered by them, but _oh no. _She had to stay away from his nephews, or else Uncle Thorin would scowl some more and spout more crap about not forming attachments. What was this, the Jedi Order?

Alison stopped walking and leaned against a smooth ivory pillar some distance away from the veranda, huffing out an irritated breath. "I am _so done _with Dwarves," she said out loud.

"An interesting comment, considering they have been your traveling companions these last few weeks," a voice said from behind her, and Alison straightened immediately and spun around, seeing Lord Elrond standing behind her with a bemused expression. "Though I'm guessing that was also the very reason you meant in your statement, as well."

"Lord Elrond," she said, clearing her throat and nodding respectfully. "I'm sorry; I didn't know you were there."

"Well met, Lady Ashburne," he replied formally, accepting her apology with a fleeting smile. "I was actually just coming to find you."

"Me?" she repeated in bafflement. "Why?"

"Come," he said, ignoring her question and beckoning her after him with a slight hand wave. She wondered how Thorin would react when he found out she had gone off and disobeyed his orders again, but she found herself not really caring anymore, tired of his hot/cold attitude towards her.

So Alison followed Elrond around the Last Homely House in silence, until they came to a wide, expansive study that she assumed was Elrond's. She paused to ogle at the sheer number of books lining the high shelves around the room, but the Elven-lord gestured for her to continue to follow him as he disappeared behind a thick violet curtain tucked into a secluded corner of the room.

When she pushed aside the curtain and followed him into the hidden room, she wondered if she had been magically transported to some sort of Middle-earth museum. Statues and tapestries of all different people and places stood around the small room, along with stocks of jewelry, weapons, and other fantastical things she had no name for; but there was _so much _stuff. It was like an antique shop had exploded.

"What is all of this?" she asked, running her fingers over a beautiful silk tapestry of a waterfall that rippled realistically at her touch.

"Relics from ages past," the Elven-lord replied. "Many of these artifacts once belonged to your ancestors, the First Heroes."

"Really?" Alison asked, looking around at all the armor and weapons gleaming on the walls. "I thought Eleon was the First Hero though? What's with the plural?"

"Eleon was the First," he said. "But he also had four siblings; three brothers, named Sendan, Kaen, and Nydeitlan, and a sister, Yendandra. They were the five Ashburnes, the five Heroes, making them the First. Eleon is considered the forerunner, however, because he was the eldest and the lone Ashburne."

"What do you mean, 'lone?'" she asked, wondering why Elrond had wanted to share a history lesson with her. "If there were four other Ashburnes, then why is only my line called upon, the line from the mortal world?"

"Because Eleon was the only Ashburne to have children," the Elven-lord said. "Yendandra vowed to be a maiden forever, Sendan and Kaen eliminated each other before they could produce heirs to the line, and Nydeitlan remained childless, sailing for the Undying Lands in the First Age, shortly after Eleon had disappeared."

"Oh," Alison said. "That makes sense, I guess. But why did you bring me here?"

"It is time to return some of these relics to you," he said, taking out a heavy-looking stone chest from the other side of the room. Alison went over to him, her curiosity rising as he set down the chest. It was long and thin, plain basalt stone with a simple design carved in the middle: a lone tree with bare branches, silhouetted against a sun behind it.

"What does the tree stand for?" she asked.

"It is an ash tree," he replied. "It is the symbol of your family, created by Eleon himself when the Heroes first came to be.

She nodded interestedly as Elrond gripped the lid and slowly pushed it up, revealing two thin, slightly curved objects lined with crimson velvet in the inside of the chest. After a moment, Alison realized that they were swords, wrapped in black leather and silver sheaths, and Elrond took them out carefully, handing them to her.

Alison braced herself for the heavy weight that was sure to break her arms, but to her intense surprise and relief, the swords actually weren't that heavy at all as she took them in her hands. "These two blades belonged to Nydeitlan Ashburne," he said, as she stroked the soft sheaths in wonder. "They are called the Twin Blades, for they are a matching pair."

Alison brought the hilts closer to her face, examining them intently. The hilts were made of a type of black iron, the grip inlaid with silver to match the sheaths. On the butt of the sword was the Ashburne symbol again, and on the part closest to the blade there were words, a different one on each blade. She looked closer, pronouncing them out loud slowly so she didn't sound completely stupid if she got it wrong.

"'Natrem,'" she read on the first one. "What does that mean?"

"It means 'dark shadow of the night,'" he said. "The other one is called 'Maodus', meaning 'cold light of the moon.'"

"Maodus," she repeated, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar word. "Is that Elvish or something?"

"No. Those words are part of the warrior tongue, a language that has long since been forgotten by the world."

She nodded, pulling the sword Natrem from its sheath and studying the actual blade. The sword was at least as long as her arm, and to her relief, it wasn't too bulky or too broad. It was slim, made from a silvery, faintly glowing steel that looked wickedly sharp as it curved to a razor point at the end. It didn't have the same elegance and splendor as an Elven blade, but it was still majestic in its own simple way. She felt stupid for thinking it, but for some reason, as she held the blade and studied it, it felt…_right, _almost natural in her hand.

"So…you said you're giving these to me?" she asked, and Elrond nodded.

"Nydeitlan entrusted them to me when he sailed for Valinor, the Undying Lands," he said. "I have been waiting for the opportunity to come into contact with another Ashburne to pass on his legacy, and here you are."

"I…thank you," she said, flustered, sheathing Natrem again. "I don't really know what to say other than that. Just…thank you."

He put a light hand on her shoulder. "Use them well," he said. "For wherever your journey takes you, use them well." He gave her a knowing look, and she felt her heart sink.

"You know, don't you?" she said anxiously. "You know we are leaving tonight."

"There are not many things that can be hidden from me in this valley," he said, somewhat sternly. "And Thorin Oakenshield's thoughts betray him; it is obvious that he cannot be swayed from the path he has chosen. Though I disagree with his decision, I know that no matter what is said, he will not be deviated from this course, and it is obvious that your presence here is for the purpose of this quest. But know that this is dangerous, Lady Ashburne. I fear that this quest is not at all what it seems, and I am very tempted to divert you from this path; but I know even better that the Valar will allow no such interference."

Alison suppressed a shudder; Elrond's words eerily echoed those of Galadriel, and she knew they were right. This quest was going to be extraordinarily dangerous from what she remembered of the book, and now with the threat of the Shadow, she knew that everything could be lost in a heartbeat. But she also knew that the Valar had called on her to do exactly the opposite of that. She couldn't back out.

"So…you're going to let us go?" she asked hesitantly, and she saw the Elven-lord's face look older in the growing shadows of the room as the sun began to sink.

"I am," he said heavily. "But heed my words, Alison Ashburne. This quest can either blaze a trail of glory for our two worlds, or it will cause them to go up in flames. Take caution, and be brave."

Alison nodded, her throat suddenly too dry for words. Elrond patted her shoulder gently, a small, comforting smile playing on his lips. "You should get back to your companions before you're missed," he said, leading the way out of the back room.

They passed back through the study, and a sudden glint from the corner of her eye made Alison turn her head to look at Elrond's large desk. There, sitting on the desktop, was a knife. And a very familiar one…

"This is mine," she said in surprise, striding over to the desk and picking up the blade. It was the same simple iron knife Fili had given her back in Hobbiton, and she was relieved to see it, yet also confused. Didn't she lose this after throwing it at that Orc?

"Is it?" Elrond asked in surprise. "It is a Dwarvish blade; I didn't think it would be yours."

"Prince Fili gave it to me," she said, feeling weird at calling Fili "prince". But Elrond wasn't used to such casualty as she was when it came to the Company, so it seemed appropriate.

"We recovered it as a spoil of war," he said. "But if it is yours, then you may keep it for yourself again."

Alison thought about leaving it, or at least returning it to Fili; after all, she had the Twin Blades now, so she probably didn't need it anymore. But as if on an instinctual impulse, she tucked the knife back into her boot sheath before following Elrond out of the study.

"I wish you luck on your journey, my Lady," the Elven-lord said as they exited the study. "I hope to meet again someday before all of this is said and done."

"As do I, Lord Elrond," she said, bowing her head. "And thank you again, for the swords, and for…understanding what we must do."

He inclined his head regally back to her. "I have no inclination to interfere with destiny, Alison Ashburne. And I hope your destiny guides you well." And with that, he turned and swept off, disappearing around a corner with all the grace and silence of a ghost.

Alison made her way back to the veranda slowly, fingering the soft sheathes of her new blades and turning the Elven-lord's words over in her mind. She didn't dwell on them long, though, for they were basically a repeat of Galadriel's words; but she couldn't shake the foreboding feeling creeping up on her, either. Twice now she had been warned of the possible disastrous consequences this quest would inflict on this world and maybe even her own, and the warnings did not settle lightly on her heart.

She agreed whole-heartedly with the two Elves; this quest was definitely beginning to shape into something more than just Erebor and the dragon Smaug, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to what was going to happen in the future with that in mind.

* * *

Fili sat in silence as the sun began to set on the Hidden Valley, the last sunset he would ever see in Rivendell. The thought comforted him yet made him feel jittery at the same time; he was glad to be heading back out into the Wild, but he was also nervous; Thorin had told them all about the Durin's Day deadline, and now he was restless, wanting to go out and get to the Lonely Mountain as soon as possible, but knowing how much wild and dangerous territory now lay between them and their destination. Though he knew all of them wanted to rush there as fast as they could, now they had to be cautious, and especially with the Orcs and Wargs on the look-out for them.

He absent-mindedly traced patterns into the veranda floor with the tip of one of his smaller daggers, a habit he found himself doing whenever he was antsy, and after awhile he looked down at his idle drawings and found that he had actually written out runes in Khuzdûl: home.

He didn't know where that had come from, or which home he was talking about: Ered Luin or Erebor. Both had been weighing heavily on his mind lately, and he scuffed out the runes with his boot before anyone else could see and question him about it.

Fili looked around the clearing, stowing the dagger back into the wrist sheath he wore on his right arm, under his coat sleeve. The rest of the Company were sprawled out leisurely, puffing on pipes and chatting, taking in their last moments of relaxation before they were on the road again. The only people not relaxing were Thorin, who was pacing agitatedly in the center of the veranda, and Alison, who had mysteriously gone missing since Thorin had assigned her to look out for Lindir. Though the pesky Elf hadn't been lurking around anywhere since that morning, Thorin was still annoyed that Alison had disobeyed his orders again and run off, though, much to Fili's relief, he didn't seem extremely angry, like he would've been if it were a life-or-death situation.

A few minutes later, there was the sound of footsteps, too quiet for a Dwarf's yet too loud for an Elf's, and Alison appeared in the entryway to the veranda, her eyebrows creased and carrying two long—_were those sword sheaths?—_in her hands. At her arrival, the Company all got to their feet and looked to her, taking in her newfound weapons with wide eyes much as Fili was doing.

He got up and went over to her just as Thorin realized her arrival and stalked up to her, as well. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "I told you specifically to stay and watch out for that Elf, and when I go out there to check on you, you're gone. What do you—oh," he said, just now noticing the swords in her arms as Fili came to stand by his shoulder, followed by the rest of the Company.

"Lord Elrond came searching for me," she told the Dwarf king. "These belonged to my ancestors, and he wanted to give them to me." She handed one of the blades to Thorin, and the other to Fili.

He took it carefully, examining the hilt with interest as Thorin slid out his blade, studying the metal-work intently. "This is excellent craftsmanship," his uncle said. "Not as exquisite as Elvish or Dwarvish make, but very impressive nonetheless."

He handed over the blade to Bofur, who took it and looked at it closely. "What is this?" he asked, reading the hilt. "'Maodus?'" Fili examined the own blade he was holding, seeing a different word—'Natrem'—on his.

"'Maodus' means 'cold light of the moon,'" she said. "And that one there," she gestured to the blade Fili was holding, "is 'Natrem,' meaning 'dark shadow of the night' in the ancient warrior tongue apparently." She shrugged. "I don't know. It sounds too dramatic and mysterious to be real, though."

"It's poetic," Bofur joked, handing around the sword to the others, and Fili did the same, listening as the others whistled and grumbled in appreciation of the workmanship.

"You said Lord Elrond sought you out?" Thorin said suddenly, as he handed back Alison's swords. "Did he ask you anything about the quest? Did you tell him our plan?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "Our plan is still safe." Her eyes tightened a little bit as she said it, but Fili thought he was the only one who noticed it. Thorin hesitated for a moment, but he finally nodded.

"Good," he said. "You can start training with Fili now, and keep going until nightfall. Then we'll eat, rest until midnight, and then we will leave."

She nodded, grinning slightly as Fili walked over to her, hefting his own swords. Compared to the feather-weight of her own blades, his felt extremely solid and sturdy in his hands as he gestured with his head for her to follow him.

She did, and he led her out of the veranda and down a small grassy path. "I found this spot earlier," he said as he led her down the path. "It's a small glade, hidden from the main paths and big and flat enough for good practicing terrain."

"That's nice," she said, and he couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not since she was behind him and couldn't see her face. He suddenly flashed back to that moment in the cavern pathway on the way here, when he had held her hand as he led her through the tunnel, her labored breath tickling the back of his neck as her small hand trembled in his. Then he mentally shook himself. Where had _that_ come from?

They reached the glade he had mentioned earlier, a grassy clearing near a stream, secluded enough to where they wouldn't be disturbed, but still open enough for suitable practicing space.

"All right," he said, swinging around to face her. "We'll start on your grip first, since you can't do anything useful if you don't have that down."

"I thought all you did was swing and slash until you hit something?" she asked wickedly, shooting him a grin as she tied her hair back with the stretchy contraption on her wrist.

"That's for knives," he said, watching her hair-tail swing into place as she finished tying it and reaching down to pick back up her swords. "Swords require much more skill and finesse than that, or else you'll probably end up impaling yourself instead of your opponent."

"Which is bad," she clarified, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Alison, that is bad," he said, mock-seriously. The truth was, he was glad having her talking to him again; though he hadn't given it too much thought until Thorin had mentioned it earlier, he realized that he had actually missed her during their time apart, with her sense of humor and odd quirks from her world that he found strange, yet also endearing. She was proving to be a loyal and fun friend, and he found himself enjoying her presence immensely.

"Come on, then," she said cheerily. "Let's get started."

"You're going to have to get used to drawing your swords first," he said, suddenly noticing how her scabbards were lying limply on the ground as she took out her swords. "You're not going to be carrying them like that in a fight. They'll be strapped to your back, like this," he pointed to his own scabbards, which were strapped in front and then criss-crossed to his back.

"Okay," she said, dropping her swords on the ground in a fashion that made him wince as she picked up her sheaths. He watched her as she studied them for a moment, and then tried to put them on over her head, where they promptly got stuck, tangling her head, arms, and hair all at once.

He suppressed a laugh as she tried tugging them off, only succeeding in entangling herself further. He heard her sigh loudly as her green eyes met his through a gap in the straps. "A little help?" she said in a muffled voice, and he tried not to crack up as he strode over, her eyes glaring at him as he approached.

"You're doing it wrong," he said, and she scowled.

"You couldn't have told me this before I decided to make myself look like an idiot?"

"I needed some form of entertainment tonight," he joked, examining the straps and wondering how he was going to do this. "All right, so what I want you to do is put your arms straight up over your head, and I'll get it off, got it?"

"Just hurry up," she grumbled as she raised her arms up. "This thing's starting to suffocate me."

He chuckled, working at the straps until he got in a position to tug them off. Then he yanked, the scabbards pulling off, and she staggered backward, catching herself before she fell and pulling on her shirt, which had come up a little with the scabbards.

"Thanks," she said, and he nodded, readjusting the straps.

"Put it on like this," he said, stepping closer to her and instructing to put her arms through the two large holes. Then he connected the two straps until they crossed her chest, and he began to try and clasp them without letting his hands touch her, feeling his face begin to get hot.

He was suddenly very aware of how close they were as he struggled to put the straps in place in the middle, noticing the scent of juniper and something sweeter, almost like cinnamon, clinging to her skin and tickling his nose as he worked, and the soft heat of her breath on his cheek. His hands fumbled on the clasp, and she raised her own hands up, lightly covering his fingers with hers.

"I can get it," she said, and he nodded, stumbling back quickly and not meeting her eyes as she did the clasp herself. Fili shook his head, wondering what in Durin's name was wrong with him. It was a clasp, not a pick-lock; and she was just a friend, nothing more. So why was he being so nervous?

"All right, then," he said, once she had finished with the clasp and replaced her swords. "Now, the next thing you do is…"

Fili threw himself headfirst into the lesson, not stopping to think about anything save for teaching Alison how to use and fight with her swords. To his intense surprise and pleasure, she was actually a fast learner, and she picked up the drills and steps he showed her quickly. They didn't talk much, with him only giving her instructions every once in awhile and her only listening, and by the end of the lesson, her movements were already becoming smoother and more graceful, and when he finally called a halt, it was like she had been training for weeks instead of a day.

"That was…impressive, Alison," he said as she stood up from her previous stance, and she smiled in pleasure. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, stowing away his own swords, which he had had out to demonstrate her drills on. "I think you have an instinct for it; you caught on exceptionally well."

She grinned, pretending to slash her sword at him. "Watch out," she said. "I could take you down one day soon."

He twisted out of the way, stepping in closer to her as he took her wrist, forcing it away from him gently, but with enough force to knock the slack blade out of her hand since she wasn't really paying attention. He pinned her wrist to his chest, grinning wickedly.

"We'll see about that," he said, and they paused, meeting each other's gazes as he still held her wrist, feeling her skin and the faint pulse of her heartbeat under his own callused fingers. His own heart kicked in response as he met her eyes, and in the dim moonlight he could see that around her pupils their color was a darker green than the pale mint of the rest of her iris. He was suddenly forcibly reminded of when he had pulled her out of the river, standing and staring at each other much as they were doing now, as if taking in the other's presence for the very first time. He had been angry with her then for almost throwing her life away, but now there was no anger clouding his mind; it was just them, open and still and wondering what was running through the other person's mind.

Finally, Fili realized what he was doing and he cleared his throat, dropping her hand and moving away, though still keeping eye contact. "We should…um," he gestured in some vague direction, and she nodded listlessly, not breaking their gaze, either.

"Yeah," she said, and her eyes were unreadable as she stowed away her weapons, being the first one to drop her gaze. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the glade, back towards the veranda, leaving Fili alone in the clearing with the stream gurgling behind him, trying to collect his thoughts.

He had no idea what that had been about, and he didn't know whether he had particularly liked it or not. Nothing was making sense to him at this point, and he wondered if it was possible for his mind to be thinking two different things at once whenever he thought of Alison.

As he trailed after her back to the veranda, he recalled Thorin's words about forming attachments; and as he remembered the light in her eyes at dinner that one night and the phantom feeling of her steady pulse on his fingertips just now, he began to realize just how dangerous his situation was becoming.

* * *

Thorin wandered away from the veranda a few hours before midnight, wanting to enjoy his last moments of solitude before they restarted their quest and made for the Misty Mountains. He slowly made his way up a back staircase and paused on the landing, propping his elbows up on the ledge as he looked out at the small sliver of valley before him.

He knew he should probably be resting before they headed out, but he couldn't bring his body or his mind to be still, so moving around in the darkness helped him clear his head a bit. He was tired of thinking; whether it was about the Durin's Day deadline, what else faced them on their quest and what would happen by their journey's end, his nephews and Miss Ashburne…he just didn't want to think about any of it for a moment. He wanted to bask in the silence and the moonlight until it came time to leave.

But of course, his good fortune lasted all of about five minutes.

"Of course I was going to tell you!" Gandalf's distinct voice said from below him, and Thorin looked down from his spot on the shadowy staircase to see the Wizard and Lord Elrond walking on the pathway below him, apparently heading to the White Council meeting and unaware of his presence.

Thorin thought about walking away; he didn't particularly like eavesdropping, but Gandalf's next words rooted him to the spot, and he found himself listening in interest despite himself. "I was waiting for this very chance. And really, I—I think you can trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Elrond replied. "That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail? If you wake that beast—"

"But if we succeed!" Gandalf interrupted. "What if the Dwarves took back the Mountain? Then our defenses in the East will be strengthened!"

"It's a dangerous move, Gandalf," Elrond said gravely.

"It is also dangerous to do nothing!" Gandalf argued. "Oh, come—the throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright! What is it you fear?"

Thorin wondered when his name was going to crop up, and he slunk back further into the shadows as they came nearer to the staircase, still not able to bring himself to walk away.

"Have you forgotten, a strain of madness runs in that family?" Elrond said, and Thorin felt a heavy blow to his stomach, knocking all the air from his lungs, and he listened in a daze to the Elf's next words. "His grandfather lost his mind, his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?" The Wizard remained silent, and Elrond pressed on, his voice fading a bit as they drifted away out of earshot. "Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle-earth…"

And then they were gone, leaving Thorin alone in the shadows of the night. He felt hollow, cold, as if someone had taken out all of his organs and left him as a corpse, save for the single flame of fear that burned deep in his gut.

Though he had kept the fear at bay for weeks now, it was raging inside him full-force as he recalled Elrond's words. "_A strain of madness runs in that family…Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?"_

That same question had been plaguing him for days. He knew that reclaiming Erebor was his destiny, his birthright, but he also knew of the gold-sickness, and he feared it. He had watched his grandfather slowly spiral into madness over the love of treasure, watched as it had consumed him from the inside out. And he had noticed it in his father, as well; Thráin's lust for restoring the Dwarves to their former glory had been his drive for trying to take back Moria, and it was ultimately the sickness that had led him into the Battle of Azanulbizar, where Thrór's life was taken, and, ultimately, his own, as well. Thorin had watched the sickness torment his family, and he knew that he was at risk for it, also. And Elrond's words haunted him, for the Elf was right: how did Thorin know that he wouldn't succumb to it? How did he know he wouldn't destroy this quest by falling prey to the illness inside of him?

The thought terrified him, and it began to fill him up, though it was soon battling with the newfound sense of determination that took hold of him; he was not his father or his grandfather. Though they were great kings, he would not follow in their footsteps and allow himself to be consumed by that disease. He was stronger than that; he had to believe he was stronger than that. He couldn't destroy the hope of his Company, of the rest of his people, by succumbing to the gold-sickness; they deserved their home back, and they deserved a king that would be strong enough to lead them. He _had _to fight this weakness.

"Thorin," a voice said from behind him, and he started a bit, turning around to see Dwalin on the stairs behind him. "It is nearing midnight. We should go."

Thorin nodded, struggling to fight down the feeling of panic and fear inside of him. "Tell everyone to get their things," he said. "I will join you shortly." Dwalin nodded, heading back down the stairs; though they had been friends for over a century, Dwalin respected Thorin enough not to push him to talk if he didn't want to, which Thorin was grateful for.

As Dwalin's heavy footsteps retreated, Thorin faced the view of the valley again; the moon had just fully risen from behind the cliff-faces, bathing everything in an ethereal silver glow, and Thorin took out the key from his cloak pocket, holding it up until it gleamed in the light.

Seeing the key filled him with a sense of hope, and he let the feeling wash over him, smoothing down his last shreds of fear until he could think clearly again. "I _will _take back our homeland," he vowed. "I will not fall, and Erebor will rise again."

Silence greeted his words, and Thorin tucked the key back into his pocket after a few moments, turning and making for the veranda again. No matter what Elrond's fears—or his own—were, he would see this quest through, and he would make his people great again.

He kept rolling these thoughts over and over in his head as the Company made its way out of Rivendell from the light of the moon, keeping him going as they climbed out of the valley, fortunately with no interference from the Elves.

As they reached the rim of the valley, just before crossing back into the Wild, dawn was breaking over the horizon, and Thorin paused, glancing back to Rivendell. The Hidden Valley gleamed in the pink and gold of the rising sun, and he felt a flicker of amusement as he imagined Lindir finding out they had gone. His eyes flicked to Bilbo, who was standing a few feet further down the cliff-face they were climbing on, and Thorin was a bit surprised that the Hobbit had chosen to come again after all. He had seemed overly fond of Rivendell, and Thorin wondered what had changed the Hobbit's mind about staying as he watched him look back to the Last Homely House, much as he was doing.

"Master Baggins," Thorin said, and the Hobbit looked up to him from his place on the cliff-side path. "I suggest you keep up."

Bilbo nodded, continuing up the last few steps of the path and passing by Thorin, his eyes downcast as he walked ahead.

Thorin looked one last time at Rivendell, the words of his vow echoing in his head, and he felt the weight of the key in his pocket. Then he turned, making his way after the others, out of the valley and into the Wild as the sun rose like a beacon before them.

* * *

**Okay, so I'm going to be ranting for a moment, and you can totally ignore this, but i just have to say sorry for this chapter haha. I just find it so weird and choppy, because I like exploring character depth, but I realized when I finished writing this chapter that it was too much depth, so I had to cut out some parts, which is why (in my opinion) things like Fili's POV didn't really flow so well. I really wanted to focus on Thorin in this chapter and really bring out his struggle, because even though they do a good job kind of bringing it to light in the movies, I just wanted to really show it from Thorin's true POV in his actual thoughts since this is a story, not a movie, and we can actually BE in his thoughts. I tried to convey his struggle as best as I could, because it's really important, and sorry for making everything else seem a bit...meh. (Again, this is just my opinion as the author, so y'all will probably think different, but I'd still appreciate your feedback!:))**

**Aight, sorry for the rant haha. Moving on! So unfortunately my updating skills will be tested from now on, because I start school again tomorrow (and no that is not the sound of me internally screaming, and no I'm not crying; my eyes are just glistening with the ghosts of my past (if you've read/seen Harry Potter and you don't get this, leave)) **

**Wow I should really stop talking now I'm probably getting super annoying. Anyway, thank you for reading, and please review, especially for this chapter! Constructive criticism is always welcome, and I love hearing your feedback! Your reviews are all so great and I love them, so please keep them coming! Thank you, lovelies!:) Until next chapter...**


	13. 13: Endings and Beginnings

**Hey guys, so chapter 13 is hereeee! So now we get to continue on with our journey into the last few stretches of AUJ yayy! **

**I know this chapter's kind of short compared to the usual lengths, but bear with me, because the next several chapters are going to be looong, so I think they'll make up for this one.**

**Anyway, here is Chapter 13, and I hope y'all enjoy! Thanks!**

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Chapter Thirteen: Endings and Beginnings

"Can anyone remind me again why we couldn't have gotten ponies from the Elves?" Alison complained, as her legs gave another sharp cramp of protest as she hiked her way up the large hill the Company was currently trying to get over.

It was their fifth straight day of walking, and though Alison had wanted to be on the road again, away from Rivendell, she was starting to regret that wish as she realized just how _far _the Misty Mountains were from the valley.

The journey from the Shire to Rivendell had to have been long, as well, but they had had horses for the most part, which were extremely beneficial. Besides their speed and endurance, the ponies had helped immensely with carrying supplies, and Alison was already missing the luxuries the horses provided.

Her backpack straps were digging painfully into her shoulders, and though her new swords were light, they still added weight to the already heavy load she was carrying on her back, making her hot and tired as she stumbled along with the rest of the Company. But she knew she shouldn't be complaining; the rest of the Company's packs were significantly larger than hers, and they had more weapons that had to be twice as heavy as her own. Combined with their armor and clothes, she guessed they had to be carrying at least a hundred pounds, if not more, each. This led Alison to wonder why Nori couldn't have snuck them some horses before leaving, also, as she nearly keeled over from the weight once she had crested the hill to where Thorin and most of the others were.

"Because they would be impractical," Thorin replied to her question, and she looked up from her panting to see him staring down at her, his expression aloof and hard as always. Alison was quite surprised he was speaking to her; over the last few days he had rarely spoken to anybody in the Company, choosing to walk ahead in solitude, occasionally dropping back to Balin to see if they were still on the right track, and then walking ahead again, pushing them on from first light until well after dark. He had seemed somewhat troubled ever since leaving Rivendell, and Alison wondered if the deadline was plaguing him that much. She raised her eyebrows as he went on. "Elvish horses are too big for us, and the Mountains are no place for ponies; they could fall or run off at any time."

Alison nodded grudgingly, having to accept he was right, and she straightened back up as the last Dwarves straggled over the hill, Bofur and Óin nearly collapsing under the weight of Bombur, who was propped in between them, his fat face red with strain and sweat coating his skin from the effort of getting his girth over the steep hill.

"Come along," Thorin said, as everyone was now joined at the top of the hill. "We do not stop until nightfall." And he led the way across the wide expanse of rocky plains and hills stretching before them, as the sun climbed higher and higher in the sky, then began to lower again as the long, weary day wore on.

Alison kept her eyes on the horizon, feeling a slight twinge of hopelessness. The Misty Mountains were still hundreds of miles away, looking like children's toys against the blue backdrop of the sky beyond. It seemed like they would never make it; even after nearly a week of travel, the mountains still looked the same distance away as when they had first started. It was like every step they took, the mountains scooted back more, as if they didn't want to be reached.

The thought stirred something in Alison's memories. She knew that the Company traveled over the Misty Mountains to reach Erebor, and she felt like something important had happened in the mountains before they had finished crossing them. But her vision was stubbornly clouded and disjointed; it seemed like the longer she was in Middle-earth, the more her foresight slipped away every day, leaving her frustrated and afraid. What if being here actually did take away all of her memories from the book? Then she would be left with absolutely nothing, and there was no way she could be of help, for she wouldn't know what would happen next. The thought scared her, and it settled like a tumor in her brain, sticking in her thoughts and taunting her no matter how hard she tried to convince herself nothing was happening, that her memories would remain intact.

"Alison," a voice said insistently from beside her, and she started, looking to her side to see Bilbo there. He looked at her expectantly, and she realized that the Hobbit had been speaking to her.

"Sorry, Bilbo, what?" she said, shaking her head and trying to clear it.

"I was asking if you were all right," he said, his sharp brown eyes searching hers. "You look worried."

"Oh, no," she said, settling her gaze back on the distant peaks. "I'm fine. It's all these supplies and the heat and everything. I think it's getting to me."

He nodded thoughtfully, wordlessly handing her his water-skin, which she took gratefully. Foolishly, she had drained hers some miles ago, and they hadn't come across fresh water since then, so she took a small sip from Bilbo's before handing it back, letting the leftover moisture settle on her dry lips for a few moments. She still had her chapstick, though it was probably buried somewhere at the bottom of her pack, and she didn't think Thorin would approve of her slowing down the Company just to stop and search for it.

"Thanks," she said, and Bilbo nodded, a small smile flitting across his lips. After they had left Rivendell, she and Bilbo had started talking again, ignoring the awkward tension that had been between them all their stay in the Hidden Valley and moving on from it, much as she had done with Fili and Kili. Now they were normal again, and they settled into an easy silence for a few miles before Bilbo spoke again.

"You know, Elrond offered me to stay in Rivendell," he said quietly, and Alison whipped her head so fast she felt her neck crick, completely taken off-guard by the sudden statement. _"What?"_

"He told me if it was my wish, then I could stay," he said, and he looked down at his abnormally large and hairy feet as he said it, a frown pulling on the corners of his mouth.

"But you said no?" she asked, and then mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Obviously he had said no if he was walking here beside her.

He nodded, though he still looked troubled. "I wanted to stay, though," he said in an undertone, as if afraid of being overheard. "Despite what you said when we first arrived there, about how I'm meant to be on this quest, I just can't help…doubting myself." He paused, taking a deep breath, and Alison watched him, feeling slightly guilty. She had left Bilbo all alone with this burden when she had been avoiding him, and she felt awful, knowing what it was like to carry around something like that and not being able to tell anyone.

"You chose to come with us, though," she said bracingly. "Even though you must've wanted to stay behind, you still chose to remain a part of this Company. That takes some serious courage and loyalty."

"It's such a riddle," he said, shaking his head but looking somewhat pleased at her words. "Trying to find out why exactly I'm doing all of this—is something wrong?" He asked suddenly, glancing back behind his shoulder.

Alison had stopped dead in her tracks, frozen, her heart stuttering as a memory came rushing back full-force. The name of a chapter title floated in front of her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat: _Riddles in the dark…riddles in the dark…_

Everything was clear now: the journey over the Misty Mountains, the goblin-tunnels, and Bilbo, alone in an underground lake with a creature, playing a game of riddles for his life, finding a trinket in the process…

Though Alison had never read _Lord of the Rings, _she still knew the value of the ring Bilbo would find, though it wasn't the ring that concerned her; they would be caught by goblins if they traveled through the Misty Mountains, and Bilbo would be separated from them, forced to solve riddles in exchange for his life. She remembered what would happen in the Mountains now, and though she knew the outcome of the story, she didn't know if it would still be the same now that she was there. Galadriel's words echoed in her mind as she stood, still rooted to the spot: _"Everything has changed already; the future is now a game of chance." _

What if they died by the goblins' hands in the Mountains? What if something were to happen to Bilbo? What if they all died, their quest broken, not able to save themselves? But no. Alison knew what would happen; she could change it, they could go a different way, they could—

"Alison?" Bofur said from behind her, and she jumped, having forgotten there were still others behind her as Bilbo continued to stare at her in puzzlement and concern. "What's wrong?"

She floundered for a second, her mouth open, before she realized that she couldn't possibly tell any of them what would happen in the Mountains; that would require explaining her "foresight" and the story, and that would lead to questions about their ultimate fates…

"N—nothing," she stammered, regaining her wits. "Just a…cramp." She reached down and rubbed her calf, grimacing as she did so; technically it wasn't acting, because her legs actually were burning, and Bofur nodded understandingly, not noticing how much higher her voice got as she lied, an annoying give-away she'd always had that made her such a bad liar.

"Are you fine now?' he asked, and she straightened, stretching out her leg muscles.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said brightly. "If you'll, uh, excuse me…"

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder and hurried away, as fast as her added weight would allow, until she reached the front of the throng, where Thorin was leading, a little farther ahead than Balin, who was behind him.

He looked at her in surprise as she appeared at his side, having to catch her breath a bit after the exertion of her little jog, which she found quite sad.

"Can I help you?" he asked mildly, not breaking his fast pace as he hiked over the rocks using the shaft of his battle-axe.

"Is there another way around the Misty Mountains?" she asked frantically, once she had filled herself with some air. He looked at her as if she had suggested they fly to the Lonely Mountain.

"There is not," he replied, his brows furrowing. "Why?"

"Um…climbing isn't really my thing," she said, avoiding his eyes. "And it just seems so…long and arduous. Isn't there another way?" She tried to keep the pleading note out of her voice as she met his stony eyes again, the same color as the blue sky above them.

"The Misty Mountains run from the far North, near Carn Dûm and the old Witch-realm of Angmar, all the way down to the sea in the South of Gondor," he said, and Alison felt her heart sink. "Even if there were any other way, I would not take it. We have lost enough time as it is, and the High Pass is the fastest way to get over the Mountains if we are to reach Erebor by Durin's Day. I am afraid you must face your qualms about climbing, Miss Ashburne, for we are still going to make for the Pass."

She swallowed hard, nodding numbly as fear gripped her; she had to make him listen, she had to change his mind without letting him know why…but she knew she couldn't force him. He was too intent on his course, and from what he said, she knew he was right; if they wanted to reach Erebor before the door was sealed again, they couldn't waste time trekking around all of Middle-earth. They would just have to brave the mountains and the goblins, and she prayed that they would come out of it alive and in one piece.

Thorin looked at her suspiciously as she cast an anxious look to the peaks ahead. "Is there another reason you do not wish to cross the Mountains?" he asked, and she swallowed again, trying to get rid of the panic that was clogging up her throat.

"I…heard the Elves talking about them back in Rivendell," she said haltingly, and she wondered how many lies she was going to tell that day—or overall for the duration of this quest. "They said that they were dangerous, filled with goblins and beasts that were always eager to find travelers and…eat them, and other horrible things."

"Aye, the Mountains are swarming with the vile creatures," he said roughly, and she looked to him, eyes wide. "But they have been there for centuries; they will have descended into the very depths of the mountains by this point. They won't have any reason to be lingering on the Mountain Pass."

"And what if you're wrong?" she challenged, trying to make her tone as polite yet forceful as she could. She didn't want to make him angry, or else he wouldn't listen to her anymore.

"There is always a chance I am wrong," he said in a low voice, and now it was her turn to look at him in surprise. His eyes were tight, his mouth lined, and the same troubled look that had been plaguing him ever since Rivendell was painted on his face once more. "But we will brave the mountains, and if I have to battle my way through legions of goblins to get across and reach the Lonely Mountain by Durin's Day, then I will." He said it as if he were reassuring himself instead of her, and Alison began to suspect what was troubling the Dwarf king as he looked back to her, his eyes fierce with an icy-blue glow.

She nodded, trying not to let her despair show on her face. "You're right," she said. "We must cross the Mountains. It's the only way."

"We will be fine, Miss Ashburne," he said, startling her with his almost-comforting words. "Gandalf will be joining us soon, and we can handle ourselves until then."

She stayed silent, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth, and they walked side by side as they braced another hill. She wondered if she had overstayed her place by his shoulder, and moved to go back to her former spot in the middle of the Company when his voice kept her by his side.

"How is your training coming along?" he asked suddenly, and she gave a non-committal shrug.

"Fine, I guess," she said. She had been training every night since they had left the House of Elrond, practicing her various drills on archery, close-combat fighting and swordplay as Kili, Dwalin, and Fili watched her progress, adding new drills and pushing her to limits she didn't quite know she had with every new session. While she still wasn't a warrior goddess, she was getting the steps down quite easily and remembered the patterns well, and the Dwarves were becoming increasingly impressed at her fast learning pace. "I have archery with Kili tonight."

He nodded thoughtfully as they hiked on. "They tell me your progress is making quite a bit of headway," he said, and she looked at him sideways, confused. Thorin was the most incredibly ridiculous and frustrating person to read that she had ever met in her life, and she was beginning to wonder if he was bipolar or something. One day he was all aloof and brooding, and the next he would deign to speak to her as if they were acquaintances meeting over a cup of coffee. It drove her insane, trying to understand his mood swings, but she was slowly beginning to realize that there was just no way to understand Thorin; she would just have to go along with it.

She shrugged again, not really sure how to respond. "I would like to oversee your training one night to see how far you've come," he continued, and then he gave her a shrewd look out of the corner of his eyes. "Fili has told me that you are becoming exceptionally good with your swords."

Alison blushed a little, feeling a bit of pride at the words. She was working extremely hard on sword-fighting, for now she felt obligated to be great at it ever since Elrond had given her the Twin Blades. The swords had reminded her that she wasn't just a warrior, she was a _Hero, _and now she wanted to live up to it, to give her line the greatness it deserved and to bring Eleon Ashburne honor that this short little girl with no experience whatsoever could prove as heroic as the ones before her. And, not to mention, that she also just wanted to show off just a _little _bit around the older Dwarf prince.

At the thought of Fili, Alison took advantage of Thorin's momentary silence and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes seeking the fair-haired Dwarf's profile. She picked him out easily amongst the group, already familiar with his broad stature and the loping prowl of how he moved, almost reminding her of a lion, especially with his hair that gleamed golden in the sunlight. She watched for a few seconds as he marched along with everybody else, his eyes watching where his feet were going as he blew a loose braid of hair from his face, a habit she had been noticing of late.

She looked away quickly after that, feeling a prickle across her cheeks; she knew the time had come for her to stop staring at him when she realized she was actually beginning to pick up on his _habits. _But she couldn't help it; something about the Dwarf prince always managed to pique her interest and capture her attention, and she was starting to feel a bit bothered by it. Ever since their first training session together in Rivendell, she felt as if something had either risen up between them or something had come crashing down; though they still acted normal and sarcastic with each other, she found her gaze lingering on him longer and longer each time, liking the way his stormy eyes churned as he met her own, the colors and depth enticing her, which she tried hard to ignore; she was on a freaking _quest, _in an actual story that could end in complete tragedy, not a fairy-tale with the naïve and vain princess falling for the dashing and brave Dwarf prince. She was a Hero, an Ashburne. She had to keep her head.

Alison was torn away from her thoughts as Balin hiked up to Thorin's shoulder, and the younger Dwarf turned to look at him as he said, "We need to start shifting our course northwest to reach the Pass." Thorin nodded, adjusting their course until instead of walking straight northwards, they were heading more to their left, with the setting sun being a sort of guide for them to walk towards.

"How much longer do you think it will take us to reach the Mountains?" Thorin asked the white-haired Dwarf, and Balin shrugged.

"If we keep our pace like this, I expect at least another hard week's worth of traveling," he said, scrutinizing the distant peaks with narrowed eyes. "But that is also if the weather permits."

At the mention of the Mountains again, Alison's unease and fear for what lay ahead weighed like a large stone in her gut as she slipped behind Thorin and Balin, not trusting herself to be able to keep the worry from her features. Despite Thorin's words of confidence, she was terrified of what now lay before them; and by the time he ordered them to stop and make camp for the night as the moon was rising, her fingernails were cracked and torn from picking nervously at them and her bottom lip felt as if she was wearing a hole right through it.

She stayed silent as the Company all unpacked their belongings and spread out their bedrolls underneath the over-hanging of rock they had stopped under, watching quietly as Óin and Glóin started a fire and Bombur took his usual place by the flames to begin cooking dinner. Alison had become accustomed to helping the great ginger Dwarf with the meals, enjoying his amiable—albeit quiet—companionship and watching in amazement at the meticulous care the Dwarf put into his cooking. But tonight she opted to remain on her bedroll, gazing off into space and continuing to tear up her nail-beds until Kili approached her with his bow and quiver and usual cheeky smile.

"Ready for some more practice?" he asked, and she looked skeptically around the barren landscape, where only rocks and sparse vegetation were strewn for miles around.

"There's nothing to practice _on," _she pointed out, still worrying her fingers together.

"Sure there is," he said cheerily. "C'mon!" He turned and left the campsite, and with a resigned sigh, she followed him more slowly. Her nagging fear about the Mountains was starting to get to her, and all she wanted to do was curl up on her bedroll and pick at her torn nail-beds some more, but she tried to squash the feeling down as the dark-haired Dwarf led her a little away from the main camp, far enough to avoid hitting anyone with a stray arrow, but close enough to where they could still see them.

Kili handed her the bow and quiver, which she slung on her back as she gripped the bow like he had first taught her to do so many weeks ago. She still looked around dubiously, not seeing a lone tree or any other thing that would suffice as a target, and she turned back to him with a quizzical eyebrow raise.

"Unless you can conjure archery targets out of thin air, I don't see anything useful to practice on," she said flatly; her nervousness was making her snappish and jumpy, though she tried to hide it from him as he smirked, picking up a large stone from the ground and tossing it back and forth between his fingers.

"So we improvise," he said, holding up the stone, and she gave him a doubtful look. "Think of it as the next level of progress; most of the time, your targets won't be stationary like a tree; they'll most likely be running and jumping around trying to kill you, which is why it's time to start training you on moving targets."

"Joy to the world," she muttered under her breath, swinging around and facing the open expanse of rocky land before them, plucking an arrow from the quiver as she did so. The sky was devoid of any clouds and the moon was nearly full, allowing the bright light of it and the stars to show her way, along with the faint orange glow from the campfire some distance off.

The strain of knowing what was coming still clung to her, but she tried to shake it off; right now, she needed to focus, and worrying about the Misty Mountains wasn't going to help her. She took a deep breath and rolled back her shoulders, fitting an arrow into the bow-string and drawing it back; she remembered how strained and unsteady she had felt doing this for her first time, but now she had gotten used to it, her arms showing no signs of tremors as she held her position.

"Ready," she said to Kili, and she heard him adjust himself behind her, preparing to throw the stone. Her body was tense, taut, like the bow-string in her hand, and when Kili finally let the stone fly above her, she released the arrow, feeling a stab of frustration as the projectile flew past the rock and clattered down some distance away. She visibly tried to relax herself as she drew another arrow; if she was going to succeed at this, she couldn't distract herself with worries.

"Again," she said, drawing the string back, and she heard Kili shuffle around behind her, picking up another stone. After a few seconds, a dark object flew in front of her, and she fired her shot, listening to the satisfying _crack _of the arrow hitting the stone and watching as both tumbled to the ground. She felt a small glow of pride at what she had accomplished, her fear squashing a little as she focused on the task at hand.

She and Kili practiced for another forty-five minutes until the shadows had become so absolute that they couldn't continue, much to her displeasure. The training had pushed her newfound worry to the back of her mind, and now she didn't want to go back to the camp and sleep, for she would be left alone, wrapped up in her fears of what was ahead. But she knew she was being unrealistic; she had to save up her strength and energy if she wanted to be any use when they actually _did _reach the Pass.

They began collecting the scattered arrows, working in silence, for which Alison was grateful for; though the younger Dwarf prince usually never shut up, in training he was different, quiet and diligent as he observed her, obviously wanting her to benefit from these lessons as much as she could. And she agreed with him; it was time for her to handle herself, and with the threat of the goblin-tunnels looming before her, she knew she would need all the training she could get if she were to survive and continue on with this quest.

Once they had collected all the dispersed arrows, Alison handed back the bow and quiver to Kili and made to walk away back to her bedroll to worry some more, when his voice stopped her and she turned to face him again.

"You know, you never finished telling me about that story," he said, and she tried to make out his dark eyes in the gloom. If there hadn't been that usual gleam in the depths, of mischief and trouble, they would've been lost in the encroaching shadows.

"What story?" she asked, wondering where this topic had randomly cropped up from.

"The one with the wizard," he said. "With the lightning-shaped scar and Lord What's-his-name. You stopped before you could reach the end."

"Oh," she said, blinking. She barely remembered telling the story of _Harry Potter_, and she was surprised he had recalled it after such a long and eventful time ago. "Well, it's pretty simple. Harry defeated Voldemort and saved the Wizarding world, and they lived happily ever after, I guess, like any other story."

"Not all stories have happy endings," he pointed out, and she nodded. "That's true."

He paused, looking up to the beautiful canvas of stars above them. Alison had gotten used to the gorgeous view of the stars out here in the Wild, where there were so many, so distant and twinkling and numerous in the vastness of the sky, but they still took her breath away. She watched Kili for a moment as he gazed at the stars, her eyes roving over him slowly, taking advantage of his preoccupation to _really _look at him.

Unlike his brother's pale and ethereal glow in the light of the moon, Kili was like part of the shadows himself, his dark skin, clothing, hair and eyes blending into the night as if he had been spawned from it, woven from it. Watching him, she couldn't help but compare him to his brother, and how the two princes were so alike yet so different. They were both brave, and fierce, and loyal, with honor and courage and willing hearts, both firm in their beliefs that they could take back Erebor, that not all would end in sadness, which wrenched her heart, knowing what was coming ahead. But both were fighters until the end, and she knew this, which was why they unknowingly gave her the courage to push on, to help save them from their possible fate.

But where Fili was a lion, his heart steady and his mind true, Kili was fire all unto himself, raging and fierce, a perfect balance to the calmer center of his brother. They amazed her; they both did, and each day, she found herself becoming increasingly entangled by them. Whether it was from knowing their fate, or something else, she knew she had crossed some imaginary line with them both at Rivendell, leaving them in territory she wasn't ready to go into, which scared her slightly; though it was now the least of her concerns considering what lay ahead for all of them…

He brought his gaze back down to earth, and Alison ripped herself free of her thoughts as they made eye contact again, wondering why on earth her mind had wandered in that direction in the first place.

"Do you think this quest will have a happy ending?" he asked her quietly, and she started at the unexpected question, feeling ice coat her heart, stopping her blood as the full-force of what he was asking slammed into her like a tidal wave.

She stayed silent, her words of reassurance dying on her lips. She wanted to tell him that they would all live happily ever after, that they could pull through…but she couldn't lie. She honestly didn't even know the outcome of this quest anymore, and she didn't want to make an empty promise that could end in such unspeakable tragedy. Then an idea formed in her head as the heavy silence stretched on between them.

What if…what if she told him what would happen? What if she were to come clean with everything, about the story, about his, Fili, and Thorin's fates, about what was going to happen next? Wouldn't it be advantageous for them to know what they were up against, to know how their destinies would play out, so they could change their paths themselves? Wouldn't that be the right thing to do, instead of her knowing what was coming and not telling them? What was stopping her from telling them? Gandalf's warning that she must keep all of this to herself, or something else?

A part of her revolted at the idea, a part that wanted to protect them, to let them continue to be brave and optimistic and unknowing, unburdened by their dark future…

A part of her that would die should anything happen to them.

"Kili," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "I…I—"

But before she could say anything, Bifur suddenly appeared beside them, speaking in the rumbling language of the Khuzdûl to Kili as the Dwarf prince held her eyes, his face now unreadable in the light of the moon.

She dropped his gaze, staring down at her boots, suddenly feeling as if she were about to throw up. What she had almost done shook her to her core; had Bifur not intervened, she would've spilt everything to Kili, regardless of the consequences. And she had no doubt there would be repercussions.

To the Valar, it was already bad enough that she could see the future; her foresight alone was already upsetting what little balance this world had left when it came to the Ashburne line. But she shuddered to think what would happen if the whole Company knew what was coming. Middle-earth would probably implode in on itself and send all of them spiraling into a black hole. No. Her vision was her curse alone, and she would not burden anyone else in the Company with it. She would heed Gandalf's advice and keep everything to herself. For now, at least. Because she suddenly didn't know how much longer she could keep up this façade before she finally cracked and tore herself in two trying to figure out what to do about her secret.

"Alison," Kili said quietly, and she looked up to see Bifur walking away and the Dwarf prince staring at her intently, his expression more serious than she had ever seen it. Obviously he had seen the look in her eyes and knew the words she couldn't say—how she didn't know if their quest would end happily or not, if they would all survive. And she knew, as well, by looking into his own eyes, that he thought the same thing she did. But neither one of them wanted to say it aloud.

"What did Bifur say?" she asked softly, not wanting to talk—or rather, think—anymore about what the future may hold for all of them.

"He said dinner is ready," he replied, and she nodded, starting towards the campsite. Before she could step more than a few paces, though, she was stopped as he suddenly placed a hand on her arm; not rough or heavy, but enough to anchor her to the spot as she turned and met his eyes.

It didn't remind her of their moment in Rivendell; he had been standing so close, close enough to where she could see every individual lash surrounding his eyes, which had burned so fiercely, like the fire in his heart. Though he stood a comfortable enough distance away, she could still feel his heat, the customary warmth that enveloped her whenever she was in his presence, and she suddenly found herself wanting to be wrapped in that warmth, until she regained her senses and blinked hard, confused as to where that desire had come from. She met his eyes through the gloom, and though they weren't smoldering, they were still dark and intense, boring into her with uncharacteristic somberness.

"I don't know how this quest will end, Alison," he said in a low voice, releasing her arm as she stared at him. "No one knows how this will end. But I do know one thing: no matter what should happen to any of us, I will see you safely returned to your world. You deserve to be like Harry; you should have a happy ending with your family, and I promise you that I will help you achieve that ending to the best of my ability."

"Don't," she whispered hoarsely, and it took her a few moments to realize hot tears were streaming down her cheeks, tracing lines of fire down her skin. "Please don't promise me something like that."

"I will," he said. "And I did. You deserve a happily ever after, Alison, no matter the outcome; we all do. But if something were to happen in the end…" he sucked in a deep breath. "At least I know you will be happy, and safe, back in your own world."

She stifled a sob, feeling as if she was being cleaved in half; she had to tell Kili what would happen, but she couldn't. Everything would fall apart if she shared her knowledge. But it killed her, absolutely killed her inside to hear him promising her he would see her safe and happy, returned to her family and her world, when _she _was the one supposed to be promising _him _all of those things.

She stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak before she blurted out everything. Part of her said to hell with it; even if the world should crumble, at least she would know he would be aware of his future actions so he wouldn't be left lifeless on a desolate battlefield. But the other part, the rational part, pointed out that if she did that, then everything would be lost, not just him. She knew the Valar would allow no such loopholes as the one she possessed for anyone else.

As they stood, close together but not quite, Alison's anguish was slowly drying out and hardening into an icy numbness, and she struggled to keep her emotions in check. _Damn it, Ashburne, _she thought acidly to herself. _You are better than this. You've already made your promises to help this world and your friends; now suck it up and live up to those promises._

Slowly, she regained her frayed composure, a few last tears seeping out of her eyes as she inhaled shakily to steady herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kili's hand jerk up, as if he wanted to touch her face, to wipe away her last tears, but it dropped back to his side almost instantly, and she wondered if she had imagined it. Finally, she was able to breathe again, though an abyss now sat where her stomach used to be, a void of all the suppressed emotions she had gone through that whole day.

"I will stand by my promise, Alison," the Dwarf prince said after awhile, and he touched her arm comfortingly as he moved past her, back to the campsite.

"I know you will," she said to his retreating back, but he showed no signs of hearing her. After a few more moments, she followed behind him, already feeling the faint stirrings of the now-familiar blaze of determination rising within her to combat the void.

This was only the beginning, she realized. Now, everything was at stake.

And now, everything depended on her.

* * *

**Hooray for agonizing internal conflicts! **

**So basically I just kept this chapter short because I wanted it from Alison's main POV for awhile so we can just kind of see her actual conflict without too many other distractions. But don't worry; next chapter we will DEFINITELY see some more POV *cough* hint *cough***

**Anyway, thank you all for reading, and I hope y'all are well! I truly appreciate all of you for everything, especially for your reviews and things! So, of course, keep those reviews coming! Y'all are my inspiration to keep this up and your support is wonderful, so thank you so much lovelies!:)**

**See you all soon! Until next chapter...**

**OH and before I forget: I just recently started using Tumblr again, and I'm looking for more blogs to follow, so why not get to know my lovely readers? If you want to PM me your username I will definitely follow you, or if you just want to follow me yourselves my username is the same as this (dr-watsonn)**

**Okay, thank you once again, and now bye!:)**


	14. 14: Over Hill

**Hello, hello, and welcome to Chapter 14! So I guess I was possessed by some demon-induced frenzy of writing, because I definitely had NOT planned to finish this chapter so fast, which is why it's posted so early. But I will be getting back on track to posting once or twice every weekend after this (*universe laughs at how unrealistic that statement is*) so yeah.**

**So here is Chapter 14, and I hope y'all like it!**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Over Hill…

Fili awoke to an uncomfortable clinging mist and stifling humidity, and he could literally feel his cheek peeling off of his bedroll as he sat up, looking around and popping his back from all the kinks he had obtained from sleeping on the rocky ground the night before.

A damp, thick blanket of fog lay over the Company as they all stirred as well, roused from their slumber by the annoying mist and the presence of Dwalin walking around and telling them to wake up. Fili watched as Alison pulled herself into a sitting position from her bedroll next to his, her loose hair frizzy and sticky from the humidity and looking visibly disgruntled.

"Oh, it's just the weather," she said, her green eyes taking in the dreary fog surrounding them. "And I thought somebody was just trying to smother me as I slept."

Fili cracked a grin at her sarcastic tone. "Sorry, that was me. I had to find some way to keep you from snoring my ear off."

She whacked him on the arm with her hand, a smile tugging on her lips. "Ladies don't snore."

"So what does that make you then?"

She rolled her eyes at his jibe and set to work on packing up her bedroll, pushing her lanky hair out of her face as Fili watched her carefully for a moment, his grin vanishing to be replaced by a frown.

They were nearing the end of their second week of travels, and the Misty Mountains were almost upon them. Barely discernible through the haze, Fili looked up and saw the towering peaks high above them, as dreary and formidable as their name suggested. He knew everyone was nervous about entering the mountains and taking the High Pass, and he couldn't blame them. The mountains were supposedly crawling with goblins and other creatures of their ilk, and Fili really wasn't looking forward to seeing if those rumors were true or not. But even though he knew the others were anxious, it was nothing compared to Alison.

Ever since they had left Rivendell, he had kept a watchful eye on her, and while she had seemed just fine their first week, Fili had slowly watched her deteriorate as this second week wore on, and her dramatic change in mood honestly scared him.

She had always been so happy and carefree, always quick with a comeback or lightening everyone's hard day with a couple of cheesy jokes, smiling and laughing and talking with the others as if she had known them all her life, and not just a couple short months. But now her jokes were few and far between, and though she tried to maintain her cheery attitude, Fili could tell she was strained and worried, her smiles tight, her eyes hard and dull and shadowed with stress. He was even beginning to notice how rarely she ate anymore; though her abnormally fast eating habits had once been a source of entertainment for the Dwarves, she only picked at her meals now, only choking down a few mouthfuls before leaving to go train.

It seemed that that was all she ever did anymore, was train. She threw herself headfirst into her lessons and practiced her various drills unceasingly, as if she expected to be attacked at any moment. Unfortunately, they did live in a world where that was always a possibility, and Fili admired her dedication and motivation for it, but it also worried him. She seemed possessed of a wild, almost manic energy over the last few days, and her unusual behavior was starting to unnerve him. But every time he tried to broach the subject with her, she shut down and switched topics, obviously not wanting to share whatever was bothering her.

Fili had become desperate over her situation, even resorting to asking Thorin if he noticed any changes in Alison's behavior. His uncle had only said that she wasn't very keen on scaling the mountains and was concerned about the presence of the goblins, and though that sounded like a reasonable answer, he was not convinced. Alison was braver than the threat of a few goblins; there must be something huge weighing on her mind for her to resort to this kind of anxiety level.

He shifted his eyes back to her as she shrugged on her hunting jacket and slid on her boots, and as she tugged on her last shoe a gleam caught his eye, and he had to do a double-take before his eyes convinced him of what he was actually seeing.

"You got your knife back," he said in surprise, wondering how the blade she had thrown at that Orc was somehow back in her ankle-sheath.

She gave him a weird look as she ran her fingers through her tangled, dirty hair, wincing as she caught on snags and snarls. "Of course I got it back. Did you think Dwalin was training me with a stick?"

"But…the Orc…I thought you lost it," he said in confusion, that day swirling back to him in a whirlpool of color and sound: Fili standing before the Orc and its Warg, one of his swords drawn as he tried to keep their attention on him, not the girl or the Dwarf behind him; cutting at the Warg as it lunged, succeeding in stopping it before it got past him, but the creature's weight knocking him off-balance as it charged by; and then, in slow-motion, he saw the Orc raising its spear for the killing blow as he staggered, and he met the beast's malicious black eyes defiantly as he prepared for the tip to enter his chest; and then, miraculously, the Orc rearing back as the knife—the knife Fili had given Alison—soared through the air and sliced it shallowly on the wrist, buying Fili enough time to get in one last slash before making for the rocks that had led them to Rivendell. He hadn't dwelt much on the aftermath of that day, but now, looking back on it, he suddenly realized that Alison had saved his life. She had _saved _him.

"Lord Elrond recovered it as a spoil of war," she said, now deftly braiding her hair over one shoulder and securing it with the black elastic on her wrist. "And he gave it back to me the same time he gave me my swords." She looked more closely at him, her icy-green eyes narrowed. "Are you okay? You look like you have something stuck in your throat."

"I—you saved my life," he spluttered, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. "I just realized—you distracted the Orc so I could get away. It could've killed or injured me—"

"Yeah, well, someone had to save your ass," she said, not meeting his eyes as her suntanned cheeks took on a pinkish hue.

He placed a hand on her shoulder until she looked at him again, her cheeks still slightly flushed. "I never thanked you for that," he said, ignoring her attempt at a joke, and the faint tingle in his fingers from where they rested on the fabric of her jacket. "So…thank you, for saving my life."

A flitting smile crossed her lips, a smile that did not quite reach her eyes as she held his gaze. "You would've done the same for me," she replied quietly, and stood up, brushing off the dust that had culminated on her clothes overnight.

Fili stood up as well, and suddenly Alison looked at him in horror, as if just realizing something. Fili looked back to her in alarm at her expression.

"Oh, God, this doesn't make me _bonded _to you or anything like that, right?" she asked, her eyes widening. "Like, you don't have one of those 'you-save-my-life-I-save-yours-so-give-up-your-firstborn-child' types of deals here?"

"What in Mahal's name are you talking about?" Fili asked, baffled. "No, we're not bonded. It's just mutual gratitude and respect for one another." She visibly relaxed, letting out a small sigh, and then Fili decided to have a little fun with this situation.

"However…" he said, and her eyes snapped back to him, wary, and he suppressed the urge to grin, instead pulling a thoughtful face. "If you save my life two more times, then by the ancient laws of the Dwarves, set down by Durin the Deathless himself, then we are obligated to wed."

"You're lying," she said, and he fought down a laugh at the stricken, wan look on her face, but he couldn't hold it together. He burst out laughing at her now outraged expression, and she picked up her bedroll and smacked it with him in the chest. "That's _not funny, _Fili. I almost had a heart attack!"

He couldn't respond, only laugh, and she rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. "I swear, I'm surrounded by five-year-olds," she huffed, and Fili finally calmed down, though he was still grinning.

"Was that meant to be offensive?" he asked, with a slight smirk.

"Considering you're all a bunch of century-old Dwarves, yes, that was meant to be offensive," she replied sarcastically, and he chuckled at her annoyed glare before falling silent, holding each other's gazes for a long moment.

Fili had found himself doing that more and more ever since Rivendell whenever he talked to Alison. The most innocent conversation always seemed to lead to this now, a weighty silence that stretched between them with prolonged eye contact, where they would just stand and stare at each other, both of their expressions unreadable to the other person. But Fili wondered if Alison was beginning to learn how to read him better, as he held her eyes, so pale and bright, with an emotion he couldn't quite read that swirled deep down in the green depths.

Though he would never, ever say anything aloud about this to anyone, he began to suspect that there was some sort of chink in his armor whenever it came to the Ashburne girl. It was like she unintentionally aimed for it every time he even came near her, catching him off-guard with even the slightest thing she did, whether it be a look, a word, or a careful movement. He was staggered by it; for eighty-two years, he had built up a sturdy, impenetrable guard around himself, something all royals must learn to do if they are to be successful in their kingdoms, a lesson his mother and Thorin had drilled into him since day one. But in comes this short, plain-looking human girl with a mysterious lineage and a knack for sarcasm, and it's like everything he had built up, she had torn down, leaving him vulnerable for her to do whatever she pleased.

He always suspected that…_something _for her had been there since the very first time they met, when he knocked into her and sent her sprawling on Bilbo's floor, and he had helped her up, her unusual eyes and the unfamiliar feel of her hand ensnaring him right then and there. But now that she was accompanying them on the quest, he no longer suspected; he _knew _he felt something towards her now, something infinitesimally stronger than friendship…

_Dwarf, _he reminded himself forcefully. _You are a Dwarf prince, she is a human warrior. Now get your head out of your arse, and _forget _about it._

"Fili!" Thorin's voice barked, and Fili turned abruptly, blinking and tearing his gaze away from Alison's as she started also, quickly leaving to go help Ori finish packing. Fili now met his uncle's stern blue gaze as he beckoned him over, and Fili did as instructed, hoping his uncle hadn't seen him so openly staring at Alison.

"Yes, Uncle?" Fili said as he approached, and that was when he noticed Kili by Thorin's side, as well, absent-mindedly stroking the bow in his hands as he grinned in greeting to his brother.

"I need you and Kili to scout ahead for awhile when we set out," Thorin said. "This fog is troublesome, and I don't want to walk into any nasty surprises later. You can trade places with Dwalin and Miss Ashburne mid-afternoon. Well," he paused, looking in disdain at the mist. "Whenever we assume its mid-afternoon. This accursed fog will make it impossible to tell what time of day it is, or where the sun is so we know which direction to take. We must be cautious."

Fili and Kili both nodded. "You're letting Alison scout?" Fili asked in surprise, still caught up on his uncle's earlier words.

"Aye," Thorin said. "I told her she would be expected to pull her own weight in this Company, and I meant it. Now she has a chance to do just that."

Fili nodded again, and Thorin clapped them both on the shoulder before moving away, presumably to now tell Dwalin and Alison about their later task.

"Come on, brother," Kili said, starting towards the place where Bombur was sitting handing out bowls of porridge. "We have a long day ahead of us, and I don't want to resort to eating you on the way if I don't get some food now."

Shaking his head, Fili followed him, and after their hurried meal of cold, soggy porridge (the mist was proving to be a great nuisance, especially to the food), the Company all shouldered their packs and moved out, Fili and Kili climbing to the front until everyone else behind them was almost lost in the fog, their weapons drawn and their eyes warily scanning the oppressing damp around them for signs of anything out of place.

The Company had not forgotten the Orc hunt by a long shot, and though they hadn't seen hide nor hair of them yet, Fili knew that they were still out there, searching for them, waiting to strike. Hopefully their trail would be lost in the mountains, and that would put a stop to the whole thing before it began again, but Fili wasn't so sure, and he kept his eyes peeled the whole time him and Kili were scouting.

As the day wore on, the Company traveled in silence, the fog taking its toll and making them sleepy and quiet; though, granted, they still managed to keep up their fast pace, and the mountains drew steadily closer and closer.

Kili walked beside Fili, his hands on his bow and an arrow already fitted to the string, prepared to fly at a moment's notice should anything happen. Fili was enjoying walking in silence, despite the smothering presence of the fog, and he stifled a sigh as Kili, per usual, decided to break the spell and start talking.

"Do you remember mornings like this back in Ered Luin, Fili?" he said wistfully, and Fili looked at his brother, slightly shocked he was talking about something serious for once. "When we'd wake up at the crack of dawn, the smell of baking bread and roasting meat already thick in the air, and everyone was just beginning to stir? And we'd sneak out of our rooms before Mother was awake and wander the halls until we found our way outside, then we'd scale the walls and find a suitable hiding place, watching the fog on the mountain-side disappear as the sun rose in the east?"

"Well, for starters, this fog isn't disappearing. And I'm sure you also remember how Thorin and half the guards would chase us down for scaring our poor mother out of her mind when she awoke to find our beds empty; though she did learn not to worry after about the tenth time or so." Fili smiled as he said this, feeling a sense of homesickness coiling around him. But it wasn't the sharp pang of homesickness he had felt once or twice since setting out on the quest; it was more like the warm, comforting feeling one gets when they've been away for a long time, and they finally step through the doorway of their home and see the bright and cheery fire in the hearth and remember the familiarity of everything as if they had never left.

Kili laughed at this, and Fili instinctively ruffled his brother's hair in an affectionate manner that he had been doing since they were lads. Though Kili usually hated this sort of display, he allowed his older brother this one slight pleasure in the world of hardship they had been thrust into.

"I hope Erebor is as great as our home," the younger prince said softly. "Though I wish to see the halls of our fathers, to reclaim our homeland, I feel like Ered Luin will always be considered my true home, you know?"

Fili nodded understandingly. "I feel the same way," he said. "But Erebor _will _be great, Kili. Though Ered Luin will always be our home, Erebor is now, too. We will have two homes soon, not just one."

Kili clasped his older brother's shoulder. "You're right," he said, grinning. "Homes for the Heirs of Durin."

Fili shared a smile with his brother, a warm glow spreading through his chest. Though him and Kili had grown up now, that brotherly affection was still there, and Fili knew that he would lay down his own life for Kili's if it meant keeping his younger brother safe. Fili would never dare admit it, or else he'd never hear the end of it from Kili, but he truly loved moments like these with his brother, when it was just them two talking about old memories from their childhood and not being afraid to show a little love for each other for a short while. It was nice, having his brother with him on this journey; it reminded him that he wasn't so alone.

Kili broke their brotherly bonding time and returned his attention to the front of them, but suddenly stopped walking, his mouth dropping open in amazement. "Fee…" he said, using the childhood nickname he had had for Fili before learning how to fully pronounce his brother's name.

"What? What is it?" Fili asked, but he stopped too as he looked ahead, where Kili's eyes were staring, and he felt a thrill of excitement and anxiety bolt through him as he realized what was before them.

"The first mountain," he breathed, taking in the slopes and gradual, naturally carved pathways slowly winding upwards, disappearing into the thick swaths of fog and mist and leading to more mountains, much bigger than this first one, behind it, where the High Pass was located to get over the mountain range.

"We've made it," he said, as the rest of the Company slowed to a halt behind them, taking in the first of the Misty Mountains with wide eyes and slack jaws. "We've reached the Misty Mountains."

* * *

After his initial awe upon seeing the first mountain, Kili's enthusiasm had dissipated quite rapidly after beginning the treacherous climb up the mountain-side. Walking over plains and valleys carrying supplies and weapons and armor roughly equal to about the weight of an ox had been difficult enough, but now trying to _climb _with all of that weight? Kili was about ready to pitch himself over the side; and he had come close, several times—by accident—to doing just exactly that.

The mountain-paths were dangerous enough, narrow and unstable, forcing the Company to move slowly and walk in single-file, hardly allowing anywhere for suitable camp and forcing them to sleep outside on the paths, trying to shelter themselves as best as they could with their blankets and the sheer cliff-faces lining the way on their left side. But to add to their troubles, the incessant mist that had been plaguing them on the ground only seemed to be getting worse the farther up they climbed the mountains.

It was their third day in the mountains already, and the mist showed no signs of clearing out yet, which was starting to seriously annoy Kili. There were times when it was so thick he could barely see his hand waving in front of his face, or he would lose sight of Alison, who was only walking a couple paces in front of him. It was extremely dangerous, slow-going and arduous, and Kili couldn't wait until they crossed the High Pass and left these Mahal-forsaken mountains behind. And he wasn't the only one wishing the same thing.

The Company was horribly subdued, and morality was running ever lower as their supplies they had gotten from the Elves were dwindling more and more each day. Now all their meals consisted of were stale bread and dry, bland cheese, and the measly portions were beginning to take a toll on the emotional well-beings of the Dwarves and Bilbo, and they all moaned and griped from dawn until dusk, used to hearty fares of good food and ale, not the small pickings they had to live with now.

The only person seemingly not bothered by the absence of food was Alison; and by "not bothered" he meant "indifferent." It was common knowledge now throughout the whole Company that Alison was beginning to act different; she hardly ever ate, she trained constantly (though she had had to stop briefly upon entering the mountains, for the paths were much too small to train on), and the tight, pinched look on her face and the dark shadows under her eyes were a dead giveaway that something was obviously worrying her. Everybody had tried to coax it out of her, but she stubbornly refused that anything was wrong and just started ignoring whoever was talking to her or changing the subject if they pressed her further.

Though she had been thoroughly anxious down on the ground, she had still tried to act normal; but ever since they had officially entered the mountains, it was like she was a walking, lifeless shell of the bright and witty Alison Ashburne who had become so endearing to him.

Her behavior distressed him greatly, and he worried that their conversation a week and a half ago after her archery lesson was what was causing her to act in this manner. He had questioned her many times about it, concerned, but she had waved him away, stating that that had nothing to do with it, but he wasn't convinced. And every new time he tried to broach the subject, it was like talking to the mountain itself from all the response he got; it was maddening, wanting to help her, but knowing that he couldn't unless she wanted to be helped herself first.

Kili sighed, rubbing his nose where the condensation was clinging like a bramble thorn and causing him extreme discomfort and annoyance, wishing the stupid fog would just dissipate already. Out of curiosity, he wondered if he could still see his feet in the swirling mist, and he looked down to his boots, which was a big mistake.

The fog had slowly been thinning out as the day wore on, and now it was only a gauzy sheet wrapped around Kili's body as he looked down, feeling a slight flare of panic at what he saw. The valley below them had become visible, and from where Kili was walking on the mountain-path, he had to guess they were already halfway up the first mountain as he saw just how far away the valley floor was; from this distance, it was just like a shaggy green rug, dotted here and there with ant-sized trees and a small snaking river that looked like one long cut in the landscape. Kili wasn't afraid of heights, but the notion of falling off of the mountain to the valley below still made his stomach turn, and he looked away quickly, focusing instead on the now-visible green of Alison's hunting jacket.

With the sudden lift of the fog, Kili noticed then how dark it was becoming, the slate-gray of the twilight beginning to encroach on the Company as they continued on for several more leagues, not wasting any daylight so they would be over these mountains as soon as possible. Far out to the northern horizon, against the gray dusky sky, brewed a fierce-looking array of black clouds, and Kili felt his heart sink.

_Glorious, _he thought sulkily. _Just another thing to brighten my already wonderful day. _But he didn't complain all that much; the clouds still looked farther off, and he guessed they wouldn't break until late the next morning.

Kili suddenly skidded to a stop, dislodging some stones with his feet as he tried to avoid slamming into Alison's back as she came to an abrupt halt before him. "Are you trying to make me fall off the mountain, Alison?" he asked indignantly. "Why did you stop like that?"

He heard her snort from in front of him without turning around. "That wasn't my fault," she said. "Thorin was the one who ordered us to stop."

At her words, Kili realized that his uncle was shouting at them all from the front of the group, and he tuned in to what his uncle was saying.

"We camp here for the night!" he heard him shouting. "The High Pass will be on us tomorrow morning, and I want us all well-rested before crossing. Dwalin and I will take first watch up here, and Ori and Dori will take watch from the rear."

Behind Kili, he could hear his brother relaying Thorin's orders to the rest of the group who was out of earshot, and Kili smirked as he heard Dori's disgruntled complaints about having to take watch as he began to settle out his blanket and bedroll, Alison doing the same beside him.

Soon the whole Company was seated on their bedrolls, their backs propped against the mountain-face behind them as they chatted quietly, the smell of tobacco smoke hanging thick and cloying in the heavy air. Kili was tempted to take his own pipe out, but Alison had made it clear she detested such things, so he kept the urge to himself and instead sighed, tilting his head back against the rocks and closing his eyes, letting the familiar sounds of the Company's doings wash over him.

A few minutes later he opened his eyes as he felt something being pressed into his hands, and he looked down, startled, until he realized that Alison was trying to push some food into his hands.

"Take some and pass it down," she instructed, and he noticed she had her own small portion in her lap, a hunk of grainy brown bread and a small chunk of dried out golden cheese. Kili took some for himself and handed off the rations to Fili, who was fiddling with one of his daggers in his usual habit, silent and pondering beside him.

Kili took a bite out of the tasteless bread, feeling like he was swallowing bark, and he took a swig from his water-skin to get some of the staleness out of his mouth. He looked over at Alison, who took the tiniest nibble out of the corner of her cheese and then set it down, swallowing the small bite with difficulty, as if there was something already in her throat she couldn't quite choke down.

"You should eat, Alison," he said, as he took another unsavory bite out of his bread. "You need to keep up your strength."

"I'm not hungry," she said, beginning to peel and scrape at her nail-beds, which were already torn and raw from previous actions of this sort, and staring out over the darkening mountain range, her eyes shifting wildly around the gloom.

"All right, enough," Kili said angrily, tossing down his bread, and she turned to look at him in shock at his sudden change of tone. But Kili was tired of this; Alison was going to tell him what was wrong, once and for all, before he started tearing his hair out of his head from frustration. He missed the _real _Alison Ashburne, the one with the wry smile and the bright gleam in her pale eyes, the one who laughed readily and easily and spoke whatever came into her head first, whether he understood it or not. He wanted the old Alison back so much it hurt, which surprised him; he hadn't realized just how much her friendship had come to mean to him in these past two months. "Alison, _please _tell me what's wrong. I can't do this, I can't just stand by and watch you be miserable and put yourself through this. If you would just _tell _me—"

"Nothing's wrong, Kili," she said, and there was a hint of steel in her eyes as she said it. "Nothing _has _been wrong. I'm just—tired, and strained, from all this walking and climbing and training. In my world we never did anything as exhausting as this, and it's just starting to get to me, is all."

Kili leaned in close to her face, dropping his voice so he wouldn't catch anyone else's attention. "Alison, please stop lying to me. I want to help you, but if you won't talk to me…" he sighed in frustration, raking a hand through his hair. "Look, if this is about what we talked about all those nights ago—"

"It's not," she said, shaking her head. "Please, just drop it. It's nothing for you to worry about. I'm fine."

"Alison—"

"Goodnight, Kili," she said, and without another word or glance at him, she turned her back and curled up on her bedroll, drawing her blanket tightly over herself and shielding her face with the fabric.

Kili stared at her for a few moments, blinking as if he'd been slapped. Her blatant refusal to talk to him about what was bothering her wasn't unexpected, but his frustration was becoming a palpable thing, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. If she wouldn't talk, he wouldn't force her; but oh, how mad it drove him.

At that moment, there was the distant rumble of thunder, and Kili sighed, finishing off his pathetic dinner and eventually lying down next to the still form of Alison, who was obviously not yet asleep but was trying to act like it. Not knowing what else to do, he closed his eyes, but it took him a long time to finally drift into sleep, his mind buzzing with images of ice-green eyes full of light and a smile he realized that he missed with a terrible ache.

* * *

Alison was at her wit's end. After fighting for a week against the all-consuming fear of the future prospects before her, she had finally accepted defeat and stopped defending herself against the anxiety that now knotted her stomach and held her captive in her own body as the Company had crossed into the Misty Mountains.

She didn't know what to do anymore except hope; hope that they wouldn't be captured by goblins, hope they wouldn't die on the High Pass; hope for anything really, that could ensure their survival.

And after her conversation with Kili the night before, she was now burdened with guilt along with her fear. She knew everyone else knew that there was something going on with her, and though they had asked about it, she refused to say anything, and they had let the subject drop. But not Kili. It pained her so much to see how concerned he was for her, and she couldn't alleviate his worries without telling him the truth, which she couldn't do, either. So she had to lie to his face and watch as his frustration and concern grew day by day, and it hurt her to know that she was also hurting _him._

But it was for the best. None of them could know anything, and she would keep it that way until her task here in this world was done, no matter how much it pained her.

Thorin had awoken them at dawn to get started; if it could even be called dawn. Inky black clouds churned in the sky, and no sooner had they gotten up, repacked, and eaten, then the sky cracked open and the torrential rain and hurricane-force gale had started.

If there was anything that could make Alison feel worse than she already did, it was the presence of the storm that stayed on them all day as they painstakingly pressed forward, Thorin refusing to be deterred from the awful weather. She was cold, wet, and miserable as the rain pounded down and the wind tore at her hair and clothes, and she tried to avoid looking down whenever the lightning flashed, her stomach already queasy from the last time she had seen how far up the mountains they had gone and the valley floor far, far below them.

Alison guessed it was about mid-afternoon when she could barely distinguish Thorin's voice yelling from the front of the group, and she paused, listening, Kili behind her and Óin in front. "We have reached the Pass!" Thorin shouted over the shrieking wind. "Keep your guard up and be cautious!"

The announcement traveled all through the Company, and they pressed forward as the day wore on. If it was possible, the storm grew steadily worse as they continued into the Mountain Pass, and soon the rain and wind was lashing so hard that Alison could barely keep her eyes open, the vulnerable skin on her hands, face, and neck stinging with the force of the raindrops. The Company practically slowed to a crawl as they treaded the path, their boots sinking into puddles and slipping on stones as the unrelenting storm raged on around them.

Alison assumed it was nearing night as the oppressing darkness grew infinitesimally darker, and she knew they would have to stop soon before night truly fell and they were left stranded in the dangers of this weather.

As if reinforcing her thoughts, there was suddenly a cry from behind her, and she whirled around, her heart leaping to her throat as she saw Bilbo floundering for balance some places down from her, his arms flailing. For one horrible moment, Alison thought the Hobbit was going to fall over the edge, but at the last second Dwalin and Bofur managed to pull him back to safety against the mountain-side.

The close-call of their burglar had not escaped Thorin's attention, and much to her relief and dismay, he called, "We must find shelter!"

"I couldn't agree more," she heard Kili mutter from behind her, and Alison wished she could share the Dwarf prince's attitude. But stopping led to a greater chance of them being taken by the goblins, something she wasn't keen on happening. Though there had been no signs of any goblins or other creatures during their trek through the Mountains so far, Alison knew they were there, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Her fear mounted higher at the thought, and her gut began to clench in warning; something bad was going to happen. And it was going to happen soon.

No sooner had she thought that then Dwalin's voice roared, "Look out!" Alison looked up, and she gasped, inhaling a bunch of raindrops as she saw what Dwalin was talking about. Barely silhouetted against the dark sky was the outline of a giant boulder, soaring through the air towards them as if it had been thrown from the mountains itself.

"Take cover!" Thorin bellowed, and a second later the boulder collided with the mountain they were standing on, and Alison felt a tremor that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth as debris began to cascade around them.

"Get back!" Kili shouted, grabbing her waist and bodily shoving her into the cliff-face behind them as chunks of rock bigger than her head rained down around them. Watching them fall, she had no doubt that if Kili hadn't pushed her when he did, her skull would now be cracked open from the force of the falling rocks.

"This is no thunderstorm," Balin said from his place near the front. "It's a thunder-battle! Look!" And Alison looked to where the old Dwarf was pointing, and she was sure that if Kili hadn't been holding onto her she would've fainted right then and there.

Across the Pass, there was a bone-grinding rumble, louder than the thunder around them, and as Alison watched, a piece of the mountain _came to life, _and she felt her knees go weak as she realized that there was a humanoid-shape, hewn from the mountain itself, that peeled itself away from the stone and _roared, _the sound sending shock-waves around the mountain range, echoing ten times over around the peaks. There was another tremble from behind the Company and they turned, seeing another figure, thousands of feet tall, breaking away from the mountain behind them, ripping a huge chunk of stone from the peak it had just emerged from and pitching it to the giant in front of them.

"Well, bless me!" Bofur said in awe. "The legends are true! Giants! Stone giants!"

There was another ear-shattering roar as the hunk of rock the second giant threw slammed into the first one, and it staggered back, every one of its movements like its own miniature earthquake.

"Take cover, you fools!" Thorin roared, and Alison dimly wondered how they were supposed to do that if they were trapped on the open side of a freaking _mountain. _Suddenly there was another tremor from beneath her feet, and it was not coming from the two giants battling it out in front of them.

A split second before it happened, Alison realized what was going on, and she clutched at Kili wildly, her breath rasping in her throat as she said, "We have to move! Kili, we have to go _now—" _

But it was too late. With a force equal to that of the earth splitting apart, the mountain they were standing on began to tear down the middle as another stone giant emerged, shedding stones and rocks as it awoke. With a thrill of terror, Alison realized that they were literally _standing _on the giant's legs, and a wide fissure began to appear between Fili and Kili behind her, and the two brothers shuffled away from it, eyes wide as they too realized what was happening.

"Kili!" Fili said in panic. "Grab my hand!" He held out his hand to his brother, but the crevice was too wide; Kili couldn't reach him, and he looked at his brother with fear in his eyes, which sank into Alison like a dagger. She had _never _seen Kili look so afraid before.

The third giant got to its feet, and now half the Company was on one of its legs, while the other half was on the other leg. As their giant surged forward, the first giant that had awoken came forward to meet it, not even hesitating before promptly smashing its rocky skull into their giants' head, causing it to stagger back towards the mountains behind them.

The leg Alison was standing on swung back at an awkward angle, and through the blinding rain she could see a ledge below them that they would be able to jump to. Apparently Thorin had the same idea, and he shouted, "Come on! Jump!" before leaping into space and landing precariously on the ledge. Without question, Glóin followed, and then everyone else, Kili leading Alison by her hand until they reached the end of the giant's leg, the ledge right below them.

"Go, Alison! Jump!" he said, and without even pausing to think of how insane it was, Alison launched herself into empty air, her stomach swooping until she collided painfully with solid ground again, a sharp needle of pain lacing up her ankles. A few seconds later, Kili clattered to a landing behind her, and their half of the Company was safe. Now their only problem was the other half of the Company, still stranded on the stone giants' other leg.

Alison watched in fear as the other half of the Company, consisting of Bilbo, Bofur, Dwalin, Bombur, Ori, Dori, Balin and Fili, swung by, clinging on to the rocks for dear life as the giant went in for retaliation against the giant that had attacked it. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest as she watched the first giant swing a vicious, rocky punch to the giant carrying the Dwarves and Bilbo, and this time, the giant wasn't so lucky.

With a crunching sound that made the hair on Alison's arms stand straight up, the giant carrying the Company's head came clean off from the force of the blow, and she heard Kili's sharp intake of breath from beside her even over the sound of the storm. She gripped his arm tightly, feeling his tense muscles under her fingers, a clear sign that he was as scared as she was for the people still on the giant.

The third giant's head fell down to the valley below, and a few seconds later, its headless body began to crumble, as well, folding in on itself as it too began to fall. With a sickening jolt, Alison saw the knee-ledge the Company was standing on speed towards the side of the mountain a little bit ahead from where she and the others were, and she stared in horror as the other half of the Company were smashed into the cliff-face before them.

"NO!" she screamed, the word tearing from her throat. "No no no no!" As if in slow-motion, she saw the headless giant fall to the valley floor below, and her desperate eyes scanned the length of the giant, but there was no sign of life upon the rocky surfaces.

The whole half of the Company standing with her let out cries and shouts of dismay, and above the din of the storm and the two remaining stone giants, who had taken their battle farther down the Pass, she could hear Thorin's anguished voice, yelling, "No! Fili! No!"

The Dwarf king surged forward, farther down the path where the collision had happened, everyone else stampeding behind him. Alison could feel Kili's hot, panicked breath on the back of her neck as they ran, and Alison could swear she had never run so fast in her life, despite the danger the path presented.

_No, _she thought as she ran. _Oh, God, no, please, no, no, no. Bilbo, Bofur, Fili—no, no, please let them be alive, please let them be—_

As they rounded a bend in the pathway, Alison skidded to a stop, and she let out a sob of relief at what she saw before her. The other half of the Company that had smashed into the wall had miraculously managed to not be squashed like bugs, all of them lying in a squirming, groaning pile, though none of them seemed to be injured, thank the Lord—or the Valar. Whoever, really, as long as they were safe.

Kili pushed past Alison, hurrying to help his brother to his feet, and Alison sagged against the cliff-face behind her, drinking in the Dwarf prince's appearance as if she had never seen him before. He looked dazed, as if he didn't quite know what had just happened, his wet blonde hair disheveled and sticking to his ashy face as Kili pulled him into a tight hug, Thorin resting a hand on his back, his face as lined as ever but with a palpable look of genuine relief on his features as well.

However, his smile vanished quickly as Bofur struggled to his feet frantically, crying, "Where's Bilbo? Where's the Hobbit?"

Alison's moment of relief was shattered as she straightened bolt upright, looking around and realizing that Bilbo was, in fact, not there.

"There!" Dori shouted, pointing to Alison's right, where a pair of small, pale hands were just visible clinging onto the ledge. "Grab him!"

Dwalin dived for Bilbo's hands, along with Bofur, and Alison scrambled to the edge of the pathway, looking down to see Bilbo's white, terrified face as he flailed in empty air, his hands clinging desperately to the ledge. But Dwalin and Bofur's efforts only succeeded in knocking the Hobbit down further from the ledge, until he clutched a protruding rock with only one hand. "Bilbo!" Alison cried.

"Bilbo, grab my hand!" Bofur encouraged, but Bilbo was too far away, and his arms were too short to reach up that far. "Come on, take it!"

And suddenly Thorin was there, swinging down the cliff with one hand gripped on the ledge, while his other hauled Bilbo into reach of Dwalin and Bofur's clambering hands, where they promptly pulled him to safety. Alison rushed over to where Bilbo collapsed on the ledge, panting, his face drained of all color, and knelt down beside him just as a shout rent the air behind her.

Swinging around, she saw that Thorin had almost fallen himself down the mountain-side, but Dwalin had caught him and hauled him to safety while all the Dwarves clambered around, their sudden fear turning into relief as they saw that Thorin was all right.

Alison turned back to Bilbo, grasping his hand so tightly he winced. "Bilbo Baggins, don't you _dare _ever do that to me again," she said, her eyes burning. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

He nodded faintly, his face starting to regain some color. "I'm fine," he said weakly. "And trust me, I will most definitely not be doing that again."

Alison laughed hoarsely, pulling the Hobbit into a bone-crushing hug. She had been so scared, so scared to see how close she had come to losing Bilbo. But he was safe now. They were all safe.

"I thought we had lost our burglar," Dwalin said, watching the exchange between Alison and Bilbo as he helped Thorin to his feet.

"He's been lost, ever since he left home," Thorin snapped, taking everyone by surprise at his sudden harsh tone as he glared at Bilbo, who only looked shocked. "He should never have come. He has no place amongst us."

"That's not fair, Thorin!" Alison protested, as Bilbo looked down, his hurt at the Dwarf king's words visible on his face. "It wasn't Bilbo's fault he almost fell off the cliff! It was that stupid giant's!"

"Hold your tongue, Miss Ashburne," Thorin said, his eyes flashing. "I will not deal with your comments right now."

Alison shot to her feet, suddenly gripped by a reckless sense of anger and the leftover fear and adrenaline still coursing through her veins, goading her into heated speech as she eyed Thorin, her hands shaking.

"Just because he's not some great warrior like you doesn't mean he's useless or weak!" she snarled, and everyone stared at her in shock; they had never heard her so furious before. She knew she was being disrespectful and uncontrollable, but she didn't care; it seemed like she had finally snapped. "He may not be a Dwarf, only obsessed with fighting and riches, but he deserves just as much respect as you command—"

"Miss Ashburne, _hold your tongue," _Thorin positively growled, and Alison choked on her words at the venomous tone in his voice. "Do not forget who is still the leader of this Company, and if it is my wish to send you back to Rivendell right this instant, then remember that I can the next time you think to step out of line like that again."

There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence left in his wake, until he jerked his head and said, "Dwalin." The battle-scarred Dwarf followed him around another bend in the path, leaving Alison alone with the still-stricken Bilbo and the wide-eyed Dwarves.

"What?" she snapped into the ringing silence. "Stop looking at me like I just murdered somebody. He's had it coming for awhile now."

No one answered, and a few seconds later she heard Thorin's voice say from around the corner, "All of you, come on. We've found shelter."

They all trekked to where his voice had issued from, and they found to their intense surprise and relief that they had found a wide and spacious cave to camp for the night, and Alison stalked in, her chin raised as she passed Thorin, who glowered at her as she swept by.

"It looks safe enough," Dwalin commented.

"Search to the back," he ordered. "Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied."

Glóin took out some branches and twigs from his pack that had miraculously managed to stay dry, and he lit some torches for Dwalin and Thorin to take as they examined the back of the cave, determining it to be safe, and the rest of the Company moved further in, beginning to set up camp.

Alison found a place near the very back of the cave, wanting to be as far away from Thorin as possible and settling down her bedroll on a sandy patch of ground, unwinding her dripping hair and shaking it out, sending water droplets flying everywhere. Out of precaution, she kept her clothes and swords on, a new habit she had picked up from the Dwarves so she could be prepared to fight or flee at any time. She looked up from combing through her hair with her fingers as Fili dropped his stuff down beside her, making up his bedroll silently and then sitting down, refusing to look at her.

There was the sound of branches thudding against the ground, and Alison looked over to see Glóin rubbing his hands together, saying, "Right then. Let's get a fire started."

"No, no fires," Thorin objected. "Not in this place. Everyone, get some sleep. We start at first light."

"We were to wait in the Mountains until Gandalf joined us," Balin piped up. "That was the plan."

"Plans change," Thorin replied, and Alison rolled her eyes. "Bofur, take the first watch." he ordered the cheerful Dwarf, and Bofur nodded, the flaps on his hat bobbing up and down with the motion of his head as he set up a post near the opening of the cave mouth.

The cave fell into quiet muttering and the sound of shuffling as everybody prepared for bed, and Alison laid down, watching as Fili did the same beside her, though still refusing to look at her.

"You're mad at me," she stated bluntly, looking him up and down, from his drenched blonde hair to his wet, scuffed up boots.

"I'm not mad," he replied, staring up at the cave ceiling. "You just shouldn't have said that to Thorin. It was very disrespectful."

Alison sighed angrily. "Did you hear the way he was talking to Bilbo? Somebody had to say something—"

"I'm not agreeing with what he said." He turned to look at her then, and she felt her breath hitch slightly at the gray-blue depths that captivated her every time she met his eyes. "But you could have used a different approach instead of jumping down his throat with everyone watching."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, swallowing her argument. She had no desire to fight with Fili, and he was right; she shouldn't have lost her temper like that.

But then she remembered why she had lost her cool, and she felt cold and shaky all over from the reminder of what was yet to come. They weren't out of the Misty Mountains yet, and that same gut feeling she had gotten earlier on the mountain-side took hold of her again, warning her that something was about to happen, something much, much worse than the stone giants, and she felt ice coating her skin, her mind going numb with fear at the thought of the goblins again. What if they didn't make it, what if they couldn't escape the goblins, what if—

"Alison, are you all right?" Fili asked, and she met his eyes again as he propped himself up on one elbow to look closer at her, concern filling his gaze.

She couldn't speak, only shaking her head mutely, her panic clamping down on her tongue.

"You're shaking like a leaf," he remarked, scrutinizing her carefully. "Are you cold? Is it shock?"

She nodded, not being able to say why she was so cold inside, why dread clawed so harshly into her skin…

Fili looked as if he was struggling with himself for a moment, then after a long hesitation, he finally sighed as if steeling himself. "I can—you should—um, here." He said awkwardly, and then he did something so unexpected it wrenched her momentarily from her haze of panic, and she stared in surprise as he held out his arms to her.

It took Alison a moment to register what he was doing, but when she caught on, she suddenly felt her face burning and her stomach filled with butterflies, keeping the fear at bay for the moment. "Oh, um…"

"You don't have to," he said quickly, retracting his arms immediately. "I mean, it was just a suggestion—"

"No, no," she said, faintly amused by how flustered he looked all of a sudden. "I mean, um, yeah. I want to."

"Oh," he said, his expression half-relieved, half-alarmed. "All right. Um, here."

And he held his arms out to her again, and she scooted closer, trying to ignore the quickened pace of her heart as she pressed close. His arms went around her stiffly, as if unsure of what to do, and she silently snickered at his awkwardness.

Even though he was as equally soaked as her and provided little warmth, his touch soothed her nerves, and with a shock, Alison realized that she hadn't been held like this since arriving in Middle-earth. There had been the occasional pat on the back or clap to the shoulder, but nothing that was as comforting and secure as this. She felt tears well in her eyes, not even knowing just how much she had been craving another person's touch until Fili was embracing her.

They didn't speak for several long moments, and Alison inhaled deeply, the smells of tobacco, trees and earth, the stale scent of sweat and vaguely of wet dog clogging her nose, underlined with a musky, rich scent that could only be described as the smell of Fili. To her surprise, it wasn't a bad smell at all, and unconsciously, she shifted closer, feeling his warm, steady breath tickling the top of her head, where it was just tucked under his chin.

The silence stretched on for a few more minutes, until finally her jangling thoughts couldn't handle it anymore. "Um…thank you, by the way," she said, lifting her head up a few inches until she met his gaze. Their faces were extremely close, and she could see a faint scar running up into his right eyebrow that she had never noticed before. "For, you know, this."

"You're welcome," he replied quietly, the cold metal bead on one of his mustache braids dancing across her forehead with the movement of his mouth. They did the customary thing where they held gazes for a long moment, and Alison was dimly aware of the snoring and breathing of the now-sleeping Dwarves, and maybe what sounded like two voices coming from the front of the cave, but she wasn't sure. She was too focused on Fili's arms wrapped around her, and the proximity of his face to hers, his stormy eyes boring into hers like nothing else was around them.

As if on impulse, Alison blurted out the next thing on her mind without thinking, then mentally kicked herself afterwards at how lame she sounded. "I'm glad you didn't die tonight," she said, and he quirked a grin, much to her embarrassment.

"Me too," he replied. "It would've been quite depressing, and it might've put a slight damper on the quest."

She cracked a grin, silently marveling at how better she felt as she talked to him and he held her, her fear and worry subsiding to rest in a place she had no use for right now.

They fell into silence once more, and maybe it was from her nerves, clouding her judgment and her senses, or maybe it was just that wild streak of recklessness she possessed, but either way, she didn't stop and think about her actions before reaching her hand up, and slowly brushing the braid of hair that always fell into his face away from his eyes, holding his gaze as she did so.

He went rigid under her touch, his eyes widening fractionally, and she moved her hand away quickly, her fingertips dusting lightly across his cheek, stubbly with his beard. But before she could remove her hand, he raised his own, capturing it in his fingers and holding it in place as his eyes did the same to her body.

Her breath hitched, and her heart thudded wildly as if she had run a thousand miles, her nerves pulsing, and every thought of what was coming, every worry and every fear of the future stopped racing through her head, until all she could focus on was right here, right now.

Fili moved her hand from his cheek, sliding it down until the inside of her wrist was pressed against his lips, and her heart fluttered even more as he spoke against her skin, his lips moving softly over her wrist and his breath making lightning spark across her skin.

"What are you doing to me, Alison Ashburne?" he asked softly, but it sounded like he was questioning himself rather than her. He fleetingly pressed his lips more into her skin. "What is happening?"

She said something really intelligent, like "Ad-gah," but his touch was short-circuiting her brain processes, and he grinned into the curve of her wrist.

She couldn't think anymore, couldn't breathe, as he moved her wrist out of the way, and she stared openly at his lips. They were so close, just a few more inches…

She leaned in, her lips just brushing his and sending every sensation in her body into a frenzy, and she wasn't even paying attention, didn't notice anything as his palm cupped her face, didn't hear the sand slipping through the crack that was forming in the cave floor, didn't listen to her gut screaming a warning as there was a sudden loud groan from beneath them—

"Wake up. Wake up!" Thorin said sharply, and Alison and Fili jerked apart as the ground underneath them lurched, bucking them into the air as the Company bolted upright around them, eyes wide.

Then suddenly, with a groan that reverberated in Alison's chest, the cave floor underneath them dropped away, and they all tumbled into empty space, the ground opening like a great black maw and swallowing them whole into darkness.

* * *

**HA.**

**HAHA.**

**HAHAHA.**

**BET ALL OF YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS "THE MOMENT"**

**But I'm afraid you'll have to wait a tad bit longer, lovelies...;)**

**(Okay, it was a 'moment' but it wasn't 'THE moment')**

** Wow. A bunch of stuff went down in this chapter, eh? And what a pleasant cliff-hanger! Mwahaha!**

**Anyway. Thank you for reading, and especially a SUPER big thank-you to all of my reviewers! I was practically glowing when I read y'all's last ones, y'all are too sweet! So, as usual, please keep them coming! Feedback is greatly appreciated!**

**Thank you again, lovelies!:) Until next chapter...**


	15. 15: Under Hill

**Hey guys! Soo Chapter 15 is here! I'm getting really excited because we are SO CLOSE to DoS, and I have so many ideas for this segment (I know I say this like all the time now, but seriously, it's going to be great). Ahhhh I can't wait! (Did I mention I already have this stuff planned until Chapter 45...and that's just until the end of DoS, not even counting TABA...o.0)**

**Anyway, I'll shut up now. ****Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!:)**

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Chapter Fifteen: …Under Hill

Alison didn't know how people could reflect back on their lives when faced with a near-death experience, their whole existence flashing before their eyes in one surreal moment. All Alison could think when she fell was a string of vicious profanities she could not give voice to, for the wave of terror had crashed over her, stealing her breath and rendering her silent as the rest of the Company shouted and yelled as they fell down into the darkness.

Abruptly, the empty darkness ended, and suddenly they were sliding down a tunnel that was like the world's worst playground slide. Alison scraped and tumbled along the downward sloping of the tunnel, every movement jarring her body as rocks and stones slammed into her on the way down. Through her haze of panic, she began to notice a lightening of the tunnel they were falling down, and over the Company's shouts she heard the drone of a dull buzz, like thousands of bees were swarming below them. In another few seconds, the tunnel had ended, and the Company fell into empty air before landing painfully on what seemed like a caged sort of platform.

Alison crashed into the platform hard, feeling her teeth rattle in her skull and knocking the breath from her lungs as the Dwarves and Bilbo all slammed down around her. Of course, just to their luck, Bombur was the last one to fall out of the tunnel, and Alison thought one of her lungs had burst as the great ginger Dwarf landed on top of them, his heavy weight too much for her smaller body to handle.

Wheezing, Alison scrambled out from underneath the Dwarf, aware that the buzzing sound was now growing into a roar, punctuated with sharp shrieks and howls and the unmistakable rasp of weapons being drawn.

"On your feet!" she heard Thorin shout, but the Company was too dazed and entangled to do anything more than shift a few inches. The caged platform they were on began to shake violently, vibrating under the strain of hundreds of feet, and the wild shrieking drew closer. In a few more seconds, the goblins were on them.

The sudden appearance of the goblins sent a thrill of fear and disgust through Alison, and she didn't know whether to scream or throw up as the creatures swarmed towards the Company, hunched over and loping or crawling along with crude daggers glinting in their hands and whips that trailed along the cavern ground.

The goblins surrounded them in an instant, hundreds of slimy, bulbous bodies pressing close as they clawed and screeched, grabbing for the Company with abnormally long, gnarled fingers, and Alison scrabbled to her feet, gagging on the horrible, rotten stench the goblins brought with them, the smell reminding her of raw sewage and desiccated flesh.

The Company all surged to their feet, as well, kicking and punching at the wild goblins, but they were outnumbered ten to one. Alison, who had been standing near the back of the platform in kind of a horrified trance, shrieked as a hand with sharp talons dug into her scalp, burrowing into her hair and pulling on the roots. With difficulty, she swung around into the face of a swarthy, gruesome goblin, and realized that the creatures were climbing out from underneath the platform as well to catch the ones like her that had been standing in the back as more clambered on to the platform.

The goblin cackled as it dug its claws in deeper to her scalp, and she gasped as the creature began pushing her to the front of the platform, the Company all still struggling and fighting with their adversaries around them. Slimy, pale bodies with cracked and open sores and pus-filled boils heaved and jumped around Alison, and she looked around desperately, catching a glimpse of Bombur being dragged down by ten goblins at once and Glóin slamming one's jaw and knocking it down, until two more replaced it and launched themselves at the fiery-haired Dwarf.

They were losing the struggle; the area was too confined to use weapons, as they risked hurting another member of the Company, and they couldn't reach their weapons anyway, for the goblins were too many and too close to reach for them.

Another goblin hurtled into Alison's path, its glittering black eyes taking in her appearance with an oozing, fanged smile. The goblin sprung for her, and she toppled backwards out of its reach, completely forgetting there was still a goblin clinging onto her scalp. She knocked the first goblin down and landed on top of it as the second goblin piled on top of her, its claws raking down her sleeve, tearing through the fabric and stinging her skin underneath.

The sharp pain of the goblin's claws seemed to awaken Alison, and she blinked, as if she had been in a deep slumber and was now opening her eyes to a new dawn, her body filled with a new vigorous sense of _aliveness. _Her brain snapped to attention, her adrenaline kicked in, and she saw everything so much clearer; the goblins were attacking her and her friends. She had to fight back. She had to go down fighting; not being shuffled along like a pig set for slaughter, willingly walking to whatever awaited them. She had to _fight. _

Blood boiling, heart pounding, Alison brought forward her right elbow, which was her only available arm not pinned down by the goblin on top of her, and with as much force as she could muster, she jabbed her elbow back, catching the goblin below her on the stomach and causing it to yelp in pain. Its grip slackened on her hair, and she brought her arm back up, curling her hand into a fist before swinging a punch at the goblin on top of her. The punch caught it on the side of its head, and the goblin snarled, recoiling, just enough to where she could roll out from underneath it, though losing a small clump of hair to the goblin's claws that were implanted in her scalp in the process.

Breathing heavily, and her right hand now smarting considerably, Alison lurched to her feet as more goblins surrounded her, shrieking and hissing, their harsh iron daggers glinting evilly in the torch-lit cavern they were in as they surged around her, clawing and pinching and cackling.

Alison reached back for her swords, wondering what she was possibly going to do once they were in her hands, but she never got the chance. A goblin behind her clamped down on her arms, pinning them to her sides, and she struggled as more goblins pressed close, using her legs to kick out at any that came too close.

"Stay back!" she snarled, but the goblins were undaunted. A big, lumbering one with a misshapen back and deformed head caught her feet as she lashed out, hissing and chattering to the other goblin holding her arms.

The goblin holding her twisted one of her arms, until she thought it was going to pop out of its socket, and she let out an involuntary gasp of pain as the goblin holding her legs dropped them back to the ground. The one gripping her arms took advantage of her pain and shoved her forward, joining the procession of the other goblins shoving and grappling with the Dwarves as they were led deeper into the humongous cavern, struggling and cursing at their captors.

Everyone in the Company had been subdued, and they were now carried along by the waves of goblins surrounding them, leading them deeper and deeper into the torch-lit cavern of the mountain's interior. They were herded along rickety, shambled wood bridges and pathways that Alison feared were going to fall through any second, and her stomach roiled as her boots kicked against discarded bones, scattering them every which way, and she had a nagging suspicion that some of them weren't animal bones.

They were coming upon another small tunnel, and over the excited jabbering of their captors, Alison could hear the tumultuous roar of a thousand more voices ahead, and she felt her stomach flip as they were ushered into the tunnel, momentarily being plunged into dimness before emerging into another cavern, this one a hundred times the size of the one they had fell into.

As they were forced into the cavern and the harsh golden glow of the many torches set up around the chasm-like space, the roar turned deafening, and Alison felt her blood freeze in her veins. Hundreds, if not thousands, of goblins lined the entire cavern, either cackling and leaping about on the edges of the pathway the Company walked upon, jabbing and pinching at the Dwarves and Alison, or the ones far above their heads jostling on suspended wooden platforms, jeering and hollering and waving their weapons in a terrifying manner.

As the Company was led farther into the great cavern, a sudden horrid noise of clashing metal, screeching strings, and head-splitting booms took to the air, the noise bouncing around the cavern walls and rising into a cacophony that set Alison's teeth on edge and made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. A few feet ahead of her, she saw Bifur stop, looking around in confusion and clapping his hands over his ears in an obvious sign of pain at the noise. Hissing gleefully, the goblins swept him forward, and above the horrible din, Alison heard an awful hacking cough renting the air, before it subsided and a booming voice said, "Hmm…I feel a song coming on."

Alison didn't know where the voice had come from, but she felt a chill run down her spine as she imagined what sort of creature was big enough to have such an authoritative voice like that. But she also thought its words were strange, until she realized that the dreadful noise the goblins were making was _music._ A few seconds later, the mysterious voice began to sing, and if the goblins had not been penning Alison in on either side, she would've fallen off the platform at how incredibly _random _and insane their predicament had become.

"_Snip snap, the black crack,_

_Grip, grab, pinch and nab!_

_Batter and beat,_

_Milk 'em, stammer and squeak!_

_Pound pound, far underground_

_Down, down, down in Goblin-town!"_

And like one horrible chorus, the surrounding goblins echoed _"Down, down, down in Goblin-town!" _Alison didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or pass out as they reached one last stretch of wobbly pathway, and through a gap in the goblins' swarming bodies, she could make out a large central platform lined with tall flaming torches and piles of bones, some bleached white from age and some that looked—and smelled—fairly more recent. But even more gruesome was what awaited them atop a large haphazard throne threaded with bones and skulls of all different shapes and sizes, and all Alison's adrenaline-flooded mind could think was—_Oh my God. Does he have a scrotum for a beard?_

As they approached, ever closer, Alison realized that the great goblin she was seeing before her was the one who had been singing, and if the situation hadn't been so petrifying, she would've died from laughter at the giant fleshy beard swinging wildly from the great goblin's face and his attempt at singing.

He was easily the biggest goblin of them all, at least nine or ten feet tall, and at least five times that size in width, with vile, scabby and putrid skin crusted with pus and other nasty things and lopsided eyes that gleamed with a cruel yet dumb sort of viciousness. He was obviously the King of the Goblins, if the stunted crown and skull-topped scepter he was holding were any indication, and he watched the Company approach eagerly, still singing and leading his subjects on:

"_With a swish and a smack_

_And a whip and a crack, _

_Everybody talks when they're on our rack!_

_Pound pound, far underground_

_Down, down, down in Goblin-town!"_

The Company arrived to the platform, the goblins stopping them roughly and watching in admiration and glee as the Great Goblin conducted right along, as if the Company wasn't there while they all looked on in disgust and horror.

"_Hammer and torch, get out your knockers and gongs,_

_You won't last long on the end of my prongs!_

_Clish, clash, crush and smash_

_Bang, break, shiver and shake._

_You can yell and yelp_

_But there ain't no help,_

_Pound pound, far underground_

_Down, down, down in Goblin-town!"_

And with the last verse of the song, the Great Goblin held out the last note for exaggeration as the rest of the goblins shrieked and stamped around them, waving their weapons and snapping their whips upon the ground as they jostled and scratched and pinched the Company.

Alison shrank away from their claws, curling her lip in disgust, suddenly acutely aware that she was a female in the presence of hundreds of bloodthirsty and savage goblins, and she hoped beyond anything that they had no more desires extending beyond killing and eating a small human girl like her as one claw scraped along her cheek in a repulsive manner, earning a wild shriek from the surrounding goblins as she shrank back further, shuddering.

During the commotion, the goblins began to take their weapons—or at least the ones that were visible—obviously not the brightest when it came to the concepts of concealment. Alison felt her Twin Blades being ripped from her back and watched with a dark glare as they were tossed carelessly into the growing weapon pile before them at the Great Goblin's feet. She held her breath as the swords landed on the pile, in clear view of the Goblin King, but luckily he didn't seem to recognize them or anything, and didn't bother looking to see which person the weapons had come from.

With a movement that rocked the whole platform, the Goblin King sank onto his throne as they finished being searched, eyeing the Company beadily with his lopsided eyes and a wide, nasty leer on his flabby face. As his eyes roved over the Dwarves, Alison ducked a bit behind one of the bigger goblins, hating to be cowardly, but knowing it was for the best; even though she knew she was bound to be ratted out soon, she still wanted some time to maybe think of a plan to get herself out of this mess.

_Reason 487 why I just really, really hate being a girl sometimes, _she thought to herself as one of the nearer goblins leered at her, and she ducked her face, hiding behind a curtain of dark hair.

"Catchy, isn't it?" the Goblin King said in a vile, croaky voice, obviously proud of his horrendous song. "It's one of my own compositions."

"That's not a song, that's an abomination!" Balin cried, taking a bold step forward, and the goblins around them hissed and shifted threateningly at the old Dwarf's words. However, the Goblin King didn't look fazed; if anything, he looked quite happy at the Dwarf's remark.

"Abominations, mutations, deviations…that's all you're gonna find down here," he replied nastily, his smile growing wider. Immediately his grin disappeared, like the sun being covered by a cloud, and he leaned forward on his throne, his eyes glittering maliciously. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" he said, and the Company stayed silent, glaring balefully at the repulsive king. "Spies? Thieves? _Assassins?"_

"Dwarves, your Malevolence," one of the goblins in the front of the party sneered. "We found them on the front porch! Along with _this." _The goblin gestured behind itself, and the encroaching goblins parted like the Red Sea, revealing Alison like she was under a spotlight. She felt the blood drain from her face as all the goblins in the cavern whooped and jeered, stamping their feet and hissing in wild fits of laughter as she stood, frozen, having no idea what to do.

Nori and Ori, who stood closest to her, moved to block her sides protectively, but the goblins dragged them back as the Great Goblin clambered down from his throne, his eyes and face alight with glee and curiosity and his scrotum-beard twitching excitedly.

"What's this?" he asked interestedly. "A human, traveling in the company of Dwarves? And a human _woman, _at that." He chuckled in a wheezing fit of laughter, his beard wobbling precariously. "Tell me, pretty, how came you to be in a situation as amusing and interesting as this?"

Alison stood, silent, trying to meet the Great Goblin's gaze as defiantly as she could. The adrenaline was still pumping through her body, raring to go, but it was also covered with a thin sheet of fear. What were the goblins going to do to her? What were they going to do to _all_ of them? She tried to recall how they got out of this mess, but as usual in these times of crisis, her memory refused to remember anything useful about their predicament. Not for the first time, she wished she had heeded Gandalf's advice about re-reading the book.

"Suit yourself, pretty. But you'll talk one way or another soon," the Goblin King said carelessly, waving a hand at her silence. "Well, don't just stand there!" he said to the rest of the goblins at large. "Search them! Every crack, every crevice!"

The goblins obliged, taking to their task with renewed vigor and groping the Company for more weapons, uncovering daggers, knives, and taking various other items like Óin's ear trumpet and tossing them onto the pile roughly, Óin's ear device being flattened by a clumsy goblin foot in the process. Much to Alison's chagrin, the goblins discovered the knife in her boot and promptly added it to the pile, and she suddenly felt extremely vulnerable without it; she hadn't realized just how much safer the knife had made her feel in the past weeks of traveling across Middle-earth until it was gone from her person.

The goblin who had recovered the knife from her boot ran its hands up the length of her legs for good measure, grazing her inner thighs as it ran its slimy tongue over its lips, and Alison leaped back, snarling, kicking out at the goblin and catching it under its chin, causing it to reel back with a yowl of pain. Instantly another goblin was on her, and Alison felt a blow connect to her face, knocking her flat on her back as her head spun and stars danced in front of her eyes.

There were livid outbursts from the Company and some scuffling as they tackled the goblins, and Alison distantly heard an irate snarl from someone—Fili? Or Kili?—saying, "Don't you dare touch her!" Alison raised her head blearily, blinking hard to get rid of the stars, and saw the goblin who had struck her looming over her, preparing for another blow.

"Enough," the Goblin King ordered almost lazily, but the goblin backed off of her and the rest from the Dwarves, returning to their previous positions but still keeping the Dwarves from rushing to her side. Alison, her face now throbbing, clambered to her feet, feeling a red-hot wave of rage brewing underneath her skin, ready to be unleashed on these horrid creatures, but she kept herself in check for the time being. _Don't be reckless, _she reminded herself. _Don't do anything stupid. Not yet._

"Let's try this again," the Goblin King said, leaning on his scepter and glaring at the Company with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing in these parts?"

But the Company remained silent, glaring at the Great Goblin with undisguised hatred and fury. Alison used the moment of silence to take a look around at them all, relieved to see that none of them were injured or anything, the exception being Fili and Kili; the dark-haired Dwarf sported a split lip, while Alison noticed an impressive array of bruises and cuts blossoming on Fili's right knuckles. They stood quite close to her on her left side, while the rest of the Company was spread loosely about around them; but as Alison swept her gaze over all of them, she found to her intense horror that Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. It seemed his own separate journey in the gloom of the underground lake had begun.

"Speak!" the Great Goblin ordered, scowling at their continued silence. From the corner of her eye, Alison saw a twinge of movement from somewhere a little bit behind her where Thorin was standing, but before the Dwarf king could step forward, Óin pushed past him, stepping to the front of the throng with an arrogant swagger that did not befit him at all.

"Don't worry, lads, I'll handle this," he said importantly, and Alison had to refrain from rolling her eyes as the Goblin King eyed him beadily.

"No tricks," the Goblin King warned. "I want the truth, warts and all!"

"You're going to have to speak up," Óin said with an air of speaking to a small, naughty child. "Your boys have flattened me trumpet." He pointed to the flattened ear device on the ground, and the Great Goblin's face contorted in irritation at his condescending tone.

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet!" he growled, taking a menacing step forward, but suddenly Bofur was there, shoving himself to the front of the throng and standing in front of Alison while Glóin dragged Óin back into the relative safety of the goblin party.

"If its information you're wanting, I'm the one you should speak to!" Bofur said, and the Goblin King took in the Dwarf's plain appearance with clear skepticism and distrust. _We are so going to die, _Alison thought as Bofur went on in front of her.

"We were on the road…well, it's not so much a road as a path…actually, it's not even that, come to think of it—it's more like a track. Anyway, the point is we were on this road, like a path, like a track, and then we weren't! Which is a problem, because, uh, we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday!"

Alison wanted to scream at Bofur to shut up as the Goblin King looked on, confused and doubtful, and then Dori leaned out from behind her, saying, "We were supposed to be visiting distant relations!" The Dwarves all chimed in their agreement, but the Great Goblin's face warped and twisted the longer he listened, until finally he roared, "Shut UP!"

The Company fell silent, watching him breathe angrily as his fleshy beard quivered in ire. "Very well," he said. "If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!" he roared to the crowd, and the goblins all stamped their feet and thundered their approval as the king spread his arms in a grand gesture. "Bring up the mangler! Bring up the bone-breaker!" He pointed his scepter to the Company. "Start with the youngest!" Alison looked over her shoulder to see him pointing to Ori, who looked half-indignant and half-fearful. "Or, perhaps, their pretty little companion!" he said, sweeping his scepter to her, and Alison gulped despite herself as the skull atop the staff seemed to grin at her. "We'll see if her screams are any bit as lovely as her face," he said maliciously, his eyes fixing on her, and a few spaces down, Alison saw Fili start forward angrily, his bruised knuckles curling into another fist.

Fortunately, before Fili did something stupid that would put them all in jeopardy, Thorin's deep voice rang out from behind her. "Wait!" he said commandingly, and though Alison appreciated his timing, she was kind of pissed the Dwarf king had stepped forward to reveal himself; hadn't Bofur and Óin just _lied_ to keep his identity safe?

But nonetheless, she watched as Thorin detached himself from the throng, coming to a stop before the Goblin King, who eyed him as if he had just been presented with the finest treat in the world.

"Well, well, well," he said in a tone that dripped with sarcasm. "Look who it is. Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain." The Goblin King bowed mockingly, and Alison saw Thorin's shoulders stiffen from behind. "Oh, but I'm forgetting! You don't _have _a mountain, and you're not a king," the goblin continued, wearing an expression of false sympathy, but Alison knew he was just trying to get a rise from the Dwarf. "Which makes you… nobody really."

Alison felt the Company's anger rising behind her like a tidal wave, and even though she was still irritated at Thorin for his earlier comments, he was still their leader, their king, and this ugly git with a scrotum for a beard had absolutely no right to insult him like that.

The Goblin King settled back into his throne, his sneer aimed directly at Thorin as he went on. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head." His mouth grew wider at the sudden motionlessness of the Company, who all looked at each other in confusion; who was he talking about? "Just a head, nothing attached," he added gleefully, clearly enjoying their puzzlement. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak; a pale Orc, astride a white Warg."

Deathly stillness pressed upon the Company, and Alison saw Thorin's shoulders shudder a little as he rattled in a deep breath. Surely it wasn't possible that the Orc Thorin had slain all those years ago was still alive, was hunting for him…?

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed," Thorin said sharply, slowly, but Alison could detect a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "He was slain in battle long ago."

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" the Goblin King said, and then chuckled at the stricken silence left in the wake of his proclamation. He leaned over from his throne to speak to a tiny goblin seated on a swing with a crude stone scribe in its hands, and Alison was shocked as the king spoke to it; she had thought the abnormally small goblin was a gruesome decoration. "Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize."

The little goblin chattered eagerly, scribbling furiously on its stone tablet before speeding away on its swing into the darkness of the far cavern walls. The Goblin King adjusted his fat bottom in his throne more comfortably just as the platform they were on began to shake, and Alison guessed they had found the mangler and the bone-breaker as a screeching noise like old creaking wheels drew closer.

"I think this commemorates another song," the king mused as the torture machines came closer down the pathway behind them, and the goblins cheered as Alison inwardly groaned; was the Goblin King going to _sing_ them to death?

The horrible music from earlier began to swell again, and the Goblin King waved his floppy arms in a conductor's mimic, singing,

"_Bones will be shattered,_

_Necks will be wrung!_

_You'll be beaten and battered,_

_From racks you'll be hung!_

_You will die down here and never be found,_

_Down in the deep of Goblin Town!"_

And on it went as the torture machines rolled on behind them, and to distract herself from their imminent arrival, Alison focused her attention on a scrawny goblin hunched over the pile of their weapons and things, watching anxiously as its hands hovered over her Twin Blades. Fortunately, the goblin moved past them, instead picking up Orcrist, Thorin's sword, and examining it curiously. The goblin unsheathed the Elven blade from its scabbard, and immediately the creature shrieked and leaped back as the magic blade glowed blue from the presence of the goblins around it.

Everyone stopped to look at the goblin, and then to the sword on the ground. Alison and the Dwarves didn't see anything wrong with the scene, but the goblins all screeched in fear and scrambled away; even the Goblin King seemed afraid of it as he clambered higher onto his throne with difficulty, saying fearfully, "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver! The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!"

The goblins shrieked even more at this, though their fear was subsiding into a furious frenzy as they brandished their weapons and advanced on the Company, particularly on Thorin, since it was his sword.

Alison stood her ground as the goblins began to leap at them, snarling, and as she ducked beneath one's outstretched hand she heard the Goblin King bellowing, "Slash them, beat them, peel them, kill them all! Cut off his head!"

Another goblin reached for Alison, and she lashed out with her hand on impulse, her knuckles connecting with the slimy face of the creature and causing her already-sore hand to smart even more from the punch.

If anything, the pain seemed to make Alison sharper, more in tune with her surroundings as she ducked and twisted around the slashing goblins. Everything was more in focus as she jumped around, avoiding the goblins' claws and weapons as best as she could and lashing out with her feet or hands if any got too close. The red-hot was burning inside of her, spreading fire to her fingertips and giving her the edge she needed to dodge around and fight back, not just cower on the corner of the platform screaming in fear.

However, her good fortune didn't last, and she spun around just as a goblin smashed into her and knocked her flat on the ground. Her head snapped painfully to the side as the back of her skull slammed into the floor, and the coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth as her teeth bit down reflexively from the force of the impact.

"Get off me!" Alison hissed through the blood in her mouth, but the goblin only smiled, revealing only a few pointed, yellowed and rotten teeth and a barbed black tongue flickering out in anticipation as it leaned in close, sniffing her skin like a predator smelling out its prey.

"Sweet girl," it rasped, trailing the thongs of its whip across her neck, and Alison felt bile rise to her throat as one of its claws hooked into a belt-loop on her jeans. "Such lovely flesh. Just a mouthful…"

Alison's stomach contracted as it leaned in further, and not having any other choice, considering her limbs were pinned to the floor by the goblin's body, she spat the blood collected in her mouth into the goblin's eyes as it sprang off of her, wailing at the blood now clouding its eyesight.

"Nasty girl!" it shrieked, clawing at its eyes. "Nasty, dirty human! Filthy, rotten—" But the goblin was cut off as a fist suddenly swung out of nowhere, colliding with its temple and causing it to crumple to the ground like a rag-doll.

Alison shot to her feet, nausea still roiling within her at what had almost just happened, and she kicked at a goblin that flung itself at her, sending the creature staggering back into the teeming mass of fighting goblins and Dwarves surrounding them. Then she turned to see who had knocked out the goblin that had attacked her, and her heart leapt as she saw Fili, who was grappling with another goblin before sending it reeling back into the fray, his braids flying and his eyes narrowed with a steely concentration she recognized from their numerous training sessions, though ten times more pronounced now that they were faced with a life-or-death situation.

Alison made for him, ducking by another goblin that hurtled into her path and passing Dwalin, who was taking on four at a time, though he didn't appear to be in any trouble as he roared insults at the goblins and fought on, the metal gauntlets on his hands practically caving in the goblins' skulls with every hit. Alison continued on to Fili, her breath sharp and raspy in her throat and her heart racing.

But as she neared the brawling Dwarf, a sudden resonating _BOOM _rocked the cavern, and a second later an explosion ripped through the space, vanquishing all the light from the torches and knocking everybody, goblins and Dwarves alike, to the ground as if a giant hand had swatted them aside. The force of the explosion rippled over Alison's skin with a blast of heat as she was thrown backwards, and a piercing silver light stabbed into her eyes until it became too bright and she had to squeeze her eyelids shut.

For several long heartbeats, there was silence, the kind of silence that weighs like the tension before the onslaught of a thunderstorm and seems to absorb everything else, like the sounds of breath or rhythmic pulse of a heart, until there is nothing but the oppressing silence left.

Alison reopened her eyes to see absolute darkness, but slowly, the fires of the torches were beginning to burn again, casting harsh golden light around the cavern as the Dwarves and the goblins began to stir as well from their spots on the floor. In the shadows behind the Goblin King's throne, Alison made out a silhouette walking towards them, a very tall silhouette with a pointy hat, carrying a staff in one hand and a great sword in the other…

Gandalf appeared out of the gloom then, looking more like a Wizard than she had ever seen him before as he stood, outlined in shadows and smoke from the torches and holding his staff and sword. He surveyed the fallen Company and the goblins piled around them with fiery blue eyes, and Alison hauled herself to her knees, staring at the Wizard with wonder and relief.

He met her gaze head-on, and the fire in his eyes filled her with new strength as he beseeched the rest of the Company, who looked to him dazedly, as if they couldn't believe he was there. "Take up arms," Gandalf ordered them in a strong, clear voice. "Fight. Fight!"

His words sank in, and Alison was the first one to straggle to her feet and lunge for the weapon's pile, grabbing up her swords and strapping them back onto her back with a speed that surprised her. She turned around, jamming her knife back into her boot, and saw absolute mayhem behind her. The Dwarves and goblins were all on their feet again, surging and fighting like they were in a street riot, and Alison drew Maodus, seeing Bombur being the closest one to her, and she grabbed up his humongous battle-axe in her other hand, nearly breaking her arm from its weight.

"Bombur!" she yelled, and the ginger Dwarf spared her a quick glance as he belly-bounced a goblin off of his gut. She threw him the axe and he caught it, immediately launching into the fight with new vigor, cutting down goblins with an almost-ease to it.

Once he had cleared out the goblins currently fighting him, Alison called "Bombur! Help me!" as she began tossing the various weapons of the Company to them so they could gain an upper-hand in the fight. Bombur waddled over quickly and helped her, and soon the Company was in possession of their weapons again, and the goblins began to quail under their newfound energy as they hacked, slashed, and slammed the creatures viciously.

Alison turned as she finished handing off one of Dwalin's mammoth axes and saw Gandalf entering the fray, wielding his sword with a grace that no mortal man his age would have been able to accomplish back in her world.

"He wields the Foehammer!" Alison heard the Goblin King bleat fearfully over the tumultuous fighting of the goblins and the Company. "The Beater! Bright as daylight!"

Alison's moment of distraction had cost her dearly; as Bombur leaped back into the fray, a weight crashed into Alison's back and clung on like a parasite, and Alison yelled out as a goblin's sharp talons dug into the material of her jacket and its rank breath rasped across her cheek. Alison flailed, trying to dislodge the goblin from her back, but its grip was too tightly coiled around her body.

She staggered back, the goblin still clinging to her, and she cried out as an arc of pain seared through her shoulder, the goblin's teeth sinking into her flesh like the blade of a knife. She fell back, losing her footing, and she felt the goblin's breath being knocked from its lungs as it made an _oof _sound from below her as she landed on top of it. Alison rolled, feeling her shoulder welling with blood as she scrambled to her feet, Maodus still in hand.

She eyed the goblin who had attacked her fiercely, and through the pain, Alison felt her blood singing, and the edges of her vision tinted red with rage. She was _sick _of these vile goblins. She wanted out of Goblin Town, and she knew the only way they could escape was through the force of fighting. But she was ready. She was an Ashburne, a warrior; she had been training for this ever since her arrival in Middle-earth, and now it was time to prove herself. She was _hungry _for a fight now_._

The goblin surged to its feet, brandishing a crude, short dagger, but a weapon nonetheless. Alison drew Natrem as well, relishing the rush of strength and power that flowed through her fingertips at the touch of the swords.

The goblin screeched, launching itself at her, and Alison recalled Fili's words from their sword-fighting lessons as she sank into a battle crouch. _Adversaries who wield knives are nimble and fast, but with your swords you have the reach and the force; use them to your advantage. _As the goblin hurtled closer, Alison braced herself with a deep breath, and as if on autopilot, she moved.

Before the goblin got too close inside her guard, she sprang, deflecting its slash with Maodus and then sweeping in with Natrem, swiping with the blade instead of stabbing. The sword sank through the goblin's fleshy stomach, and as Alison slashed, she felt the horrible sensation of tendons and muscles and skin severing apart as her sword passed clean through the goblin's stomach. The red-hot wavered as she watched the goblin crumple to the ground in horror, its shrieks of pain and anger coming out as gurgles before it twitched and went still, its eyes glassy as they looked up to the cavern ceiling above it.

Alison stumbled to the edge of the platform, trying her hardest not to vomit as she stared at the dead goblin, not being able to tear her eyes away from the motionless body.

What had she done? She…she had killed it. She had _killed _it. Seeing Wargs and Orcs being cut down didn't seem like much of a big deal, but that was because others had disposed of the creatures. This…this was all her doing. She had taken the goblin's life; she had done it with the very sword in her right hand that now gleamed with oily black goblin blood.

Guilt clawed at her, but she tried to force it down, dimly aware of the struggle still going on around her. That goblin would've killed her, and all of these other ones wouldn't hesitate to kill her either if they had the chance. It was survival; to keep herself and her friends alive, this had to be done. The goblins wouldn't let them go any other way. This was mandatory survival, not cold-blooded murder. But as Alison got shakily to her feet again, a nagging feeling persisted like a heavy stone weighing in her stomach, lingering on her peripheral as the red-hot took over again.

Swallowing her moral qualms for the moment, Alison waded back into the fray, hefting her swords as the goblins took notice of her and lunged, snapping their whips and jabbing with their knives as she dodged, weaved, slashed and stabbed, gritting her teeth against the realistic feel of the bodies that scraped and impaled on the tips of her swords.

The goblins kept coming, wave after wave, and Alison felt sweat coating her skin and running in between her shoulder blades as she fought on, the movements of the swords in her hands coming so naturally, and she didn't even feel the pains in her body anymore as she waled on; but she knew this spurt of energy couldn't hold out forever, and the goblins were never ceasing. They had to leave soon, or they risked being overrun again.

Somehow, Alison found herself fighting beside Thorin, his movements solid and flawless as he hacked and jabbed with Orcrist, the Elvish blade sparkling blue underneath the thick layers of black goblin blood coating it.

"Miss Ashburne," he grunted in greeting as he beheaded a goblin with a quick flash of his sword.

"Thorin," she replied gruffly, tugging Natrem out of a goblin's chest with a faint flicker of guilt as she swung Maodus around to decapitate a second. "Any plans on getting us out of here?"

"I'm working on it," he said as he slammed the butt of Orcrist into a goblin's head, and Alison could hear the distinct crack of its skull even over the chaotic clamor of the fighting around them.

Suddenly a rumble rocked the whole platform, and Alison looked up to see the Goblin King barreling towards them, apparently ready to join in on the fight. He made straight for Thorin, wielding his scepter and a blade that had to be twice as long as her body, and Alison's heart leapt as she realized Thorin couldn't see the Great Goblin charging towards him as he was engaged in a brawl with another one.

"Thorin!" she cried, just as the Dwarf king sliced down the goblin, and he swung around without any hesitation at her warning, bringing his sword up as the Goblin King brought his down. The swords collided in a clash of screeching metal, and Thorin sank to one knee from the impact, gritting his teeth, as the Goblin King staggered back from the force of the connecting blades. His wide girth took him farther than expected, and he toppled into his throne, but it couldn't handle his weight. With a roar of surprise and fury, the Goblin King went over the edge of the platform, taking his throne with him as he fell down into the swallowing darkness of the cavern.

The sudden defeat of their king drove the goblins to new levels of savagery and bloodthirstiness, and they howled as they came down on the Company with a wild streak of violence that Alison was shocked by as she staggered under the assaults of the goblins.

Above the increased onslaught of the goblins, Alison heard Gandalf's voice bellow "Follow me! Quick! Run!"

She looked over her shoulder to see the Wizard sprinting down the pathway he had first emerged from, Ori and Dwalin close on his heels as the others broke away and followed after them. Alison took one last swipe at the goblin she was grappling with and raced after them, Thorin thundering behind her as they made their way down the rickety pathway.

As they ran, cutting down any goblins in their path, Alison felt like she was in one of those stupid video games she would always watch her little brother play on Saturday nights as they fought through wave after wave of the enemy, jumping and leaping from pathways and platforms and all sorts of other crazy things, only intent on escaping the goblins' clutches as the creatures pursued them like the hounds of Hell.

The Dwarves were a maelstrom of fury and chaos all their own, weaving around the place with a speed and ferocity that took Alison by surprise as she fought alongside them. She was pretty sure she had fought side by side with the whole Company in a matter of minutes as they pressed on, for they moved around and changed positions constantly. At one point she was beside Bifur, who shouted and hollered in Khuzdûl as he jabbed with his javelin/axe type weapon; then suddenly it was Ori, whose aggressiveness filled her with a strange sort of pride like a mother watching her son score the winning goal in a soccer game; and on it went, Kili covering her back as she leapt for another platform, her sword already in motion as her feet touched down and severed through the gut of another goblin, and then Fili, his movements and ferocious expression again reminding her of a lion as he whirled around her, giving her a slight reprieve from the fighting as he unleashed all of his skill on the goblins around them and their attention focused on him.

"Cut the ropes!" she heard Thorin shout, and she looked up to see goblins swinging towards the platform they were standing on, pirate-style, and she lunged for the ropes connecting to the platform and holding it in place, bringing one of her blades down on it and slicing it completely through as the others did the same around her.

The platform tilted at an alarming angle and began to fall, causing the rope-swinging goblins to soar straight over the platform, and Alison's torso slammed into the platform railing as it lurched forward, and she flipped over the wooden beam to the pathway below. By some miracle of the Valar, she managed to land on her feet, her shins prickling with the force of the landing, but she forced herself on after Gandalf and the Company, still wielding the Twin Blades as they raced along the goblin-tunnels at breakneck speed.

In front of her, Alison saw Gandalf jab his staff into a low over-hanging of rock, and with a flash of light a sizable boulder chipped off the rock and began rolling down the sloping pathway before them, squashing goblins in their path and knocking them off the pathway as they continued on.

Alison's lungs seared, her arms and legs burned from strain, but she had never felt so alive, all of her senses buzzing as if she'd been injected with an insane amount of adrenaline that pushed her on as the goblins began to fall behind.

They reached an empty stretch of pathway, but before they could get more than halfway across, a giant hole erupted in the middle of the pathway, and through the hole clambered out the Great Goblin, his scrotum-beard quivering in unsuppressed rage as he smiled evilly at the Company, knowing he had them trapped as the goblins swarmed up behind them, having caught up to their prey and eyeing them expectantly as the Goblin King loomed over them triumphantly.

"You thought you could escape _me?" _he sneered, taking a menacing step forward. His sword was gone, but the skull-topped scepter still remained in his hand as his eyes bugged gleefully. "What are you going to do now, Wizard?"

He swiped his scepter at Gandalf, who staggered back, but the Dwarves in front caught him and pushed him back to his feet. With a look of clear contempt and disdain, Gandalf jabbed his staff into the goblin's eye and slashed Glamdring across his belly, bringing the goblin to his knees with a yowl of pain.

The Goblin King looked in detached surprise at his slashed-open belly, then to Gandalf, his lopsided eyes almost confused. "That'll do it." He said, and then Gandalf slit his throat, and with a last gurgle, the Goblin King collapsed onto the platform, dead.

The Great Goblin's weight was too much for the pathway they were standing on, and with a creaking groan, the part of the pathway the Company was standing on sagged, then broke apart completely.

"Hold on!" Thorin bellowed, as the pathway free-fell into the darkness of the lower goblin-tunnels, and Alison didn't need telling twice as she gripped a wooden beam with all her might as they hurtled farther and farther into the goblin-tunnels at a dangerous speed, her hair being whipped back from her face and her teeth rattling in her skull as their descent continued.

Then the stone walls on either side of them began to narrow, and the pathway scraped along them, their fall slowing as the stone provided enough traction for them to land roughly on the cavern ground, way down deep in the goblin-tunnels where there was no light, only the distant glow of the torches high, high above them.

There were grunts and groans all around, and Alison, who was closer to the ground, heard Bofur's cheery voice say from above her, "Well. That could've been worse."

No sooner had the words left his mouth then the Great Goblin's fat, horrible body crashed into their pathway with the force of a tank, and Alison groaned in pain as the weight pressed down on her chest, and the phantom-wounds of her healed ribs protested as she dragged herself out of the rubble, keeping a tight grip on her swords. "You've got to be joking!" she heard Dwalin snarl as she cleared the debris, regaining some of her breath before moving any further, her body aching like she had been run through a meat-grinder.

A dull roar began to sound from above as the Company struggled out of the rubble, and Alison heard Kili yell in a panicked voice, "Gandalf!"

Alison looked up, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening as she saw against the distant glow of the torches a legitimate _wave _of goblins pouring down the treacherous slope towards them, their voices turning from a roar into a crescendo as they got nearer.

The remaining Company clawed their way out of the debris, and Alison hauled herself to her feet as the goblins swarmed closer down the slope. "Only one thing will save us now," Gandalf said. "And that is daylight. Run!"

And he turned and disappeared down a sidelong tunnel leading away from the crash-site and the vengeful wrath of the goblins. Without even thinking of objecting, Alison sprinted after him as they wound their way through the musty, wet underground tunnels, slipping occasionally on the moisture dripping down from the stalactites on the stone ceiling.

After a while, the only sounds that could be heard were the laborious panting of the Company and the pounding of their boots on the tunnel floor as they ran, interspersed with the quiet _drip-drip _of the tunnel's moisture. Despite the absence of sounds of pursuit, the Company kept running until the tunnel began to gradually slope at a downwards angle and the gloomy dimness grew infinitesimally lighter.

Eventually, the air turned sweeter and fresher, not cold and clammy like the tunnel's air, and Alison almost sobbed in relief as they rounded a corner and saw an opening at the end of the tunnel, early evening sunlight pouring forth into the cramped space as they made for the opening, passing through out of the goblin-tunnels and into the outdoors of the open world again.

They continued running, though their pace was slightly slower now that they didn't have the threat of imminent danger on their heels. But still they ran down the mountain-side, until the sun began to dip low on the horizon and the dusky shadows began to gather.

Once they were a safe enough distance away from the exit of the goblin-tunnels, they began to slow for a rest in a spacious clearing among the trees and rocks of the mountain-side. Alison was one of the first to enter the clearing, right behind Thorin and Gandalf, the latter who began to count the Dwarves as they ran into the clearing behind them.

Alison nearly keeled over from the jellylike feeling of exhaustion in her legs, and she gulped in deep lungfuls of air as she momentarily dropped her swords, feeling her head clear a bit and cleansing the rough, oily, and gruesome _awfulness_ of Goblin Town out of her body. They had made it. They had made it through Goblin Town alive. Alison pressed her hands to her face, not being able to keep the smile from her lips as she repeated it to herself. _They were alive. They had escaped Goblin Town_.

She picked back up her swords, the fever of battle still not quite gone from her veins, and wiped the blades off in the grass, trying to get rid of the black goblin blood that was spattered against the glowing silver of the iron, feeling something twist in her gut as she did so.

More than anything, she was shocked at what she had done in Goblin Town, and a little bit in disbelief that she had managed to come out of that alive. She still couldn't quite process what all she had done fighting-wise; it was like she had entered into an adrenaline-induced frenzy, a fight-or-flight instinct that had transformed her from a regular human girl into a _warrior. _She felt giddy at the thought; she was a warrior, she had to be. It seemed like she had finally lived up to her legacy, had finally unlocked her full potential, generations of natural warrior instincts finally coming to light in the face of danger.

But almost as soon as she thought of how amazing she felt, finally realizing what she could do, she was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of guilt that washed over her like a black wave threatening to drag her under.

She had _killed _that day. She had taken lives, snuffed out a creature's existence like she was blowing out a candle. Nausea racked her body as she remembered the glassy eyes of the goblins, the sound of their dying breaths, the way her swords had sliced and cut into them so vividly, and she had barely stopped to think about what she was doing…

_Jesus Christ, get yourself together, _she snapped to herself in her thoughts. _They were going to kill you and everyone else. It was kill or be killed; you had no choice if you wanted to survive. And you knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to come on this quest, you knew the dangers and the implications you would face. Now stop acting all guilty and get over it; you'll have to do a lot more of it before this journey is finished._

Alison straightened up, feeling a bit better and sheathing her swords as the last of the Company jogged into the clearing, Gandalf counting them as they appeared out of the tree-line. "Six, seven, eight, nine. Bifur, Bofur, that's eleven. Fili, Kili, thirteen. And Bombur, that makes fourteen."

Suddenly Gandalf looked around in confusion, his brows crinkling over his bright eyes. "Where is Bilbo?" he said. "Where is our Hobbit?"

Alison suddenly felt as if she had been encased in ice, her blood freezing in her veins as a cold sense of dread stole over her, numbing her body as a guilt stronger than the one she had felt about the goblins suffocated her as the Dwarves all looked around, confused and anxious.

She had completely forgotten about Bilbo in light of everything that had just happened, and she wanted to scream as she realized that she should have _known _he was still gone, that he hadn't rejoined them on their way out of the tunnels, that he was still inside the mountains, horribly lost and trapped in the darkness, or…or…

Her stomach flipped over; she couldn't bear to think of the other option, that he had died in the gloom of the underground lake, that he had been offered as the creature Gollum's next meal…

She felt like punching something as she realized she had left Bilbo alone, utterly alone in the depths of Goblin Town and the tunnels, and she hated herself at the thought; it was her fault, it was all her fault. If she had just convinced Thorin to not take the Mountain Pass, none of this would have happened, and Bilbo would never have had to sacrifice his life for the sake of some stupid ring, no matter how much it could've helped them in the future. The thought made her feel physically sick.

"Where is our Hobbit?" Gandalf demanded in a sharper tone, and Dwalin snorted from Alison's left.

"Curse the Halfling!" he growled. "Now he's lost?"

"I thought he was with Dori!" Glóin said.

"Don't blame me!" Dori exclaimed indignantly.

"Where did you last see him?" Gandalf broke in urgently.

"I think I saw him slip away when they first collared us," Nori piped up.

"What happened exactly?" Gandalf demanded as Alison stood, still frozen. "Tell me!"

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin said, striding forward until he stood in the center of the clearing, all eyes on him. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

"Don't you _dare," _Alison said, her hands curling into fists at her sides, and the Company all looked to her, surprised at the tremble in her voice as tears brimmed in her eyes, anger and guilt making the tears burn fiercely as she faced Thorin. "Don't you dare start this again, Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo is not as weak and sniveling as you keep making him out to be, so just _stop _with the insults—"

"Does it look like he is here, Miss Ashburne?" Thorin snapped. "Look around you; the sooner you face this fact, the better off you will be. Master Baggins is not coming back. He is gone."

"No, he isn't." A voice said from Alison's right, and she whipped her head around along with the rest of the Company, their eyes widening in shock as Bilbo stepped out from behind a tree, looking exhausted and dirty with a gaunt, pale look to his face, but otherwise he was unscathed. Alison's heart felt close to bursting as she took in Bilbo's appearance, all feelings of anxiety and guilt leaving her in one deflated moment, and she stood, stunned and ecstatic, as Bilbo walked further into the clearing.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf exclaimed in relief. "I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life."

"Bilbo!" Kili said, smiling broadly. "We'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" Fili said in wonder, gazing upon the Hobbit with a look akin to awe.

"How indeed," Dwalin voiced, while Thorin stared at Bilbo with a border-line guilty expression at realizing that the Hobbit had heard everything he'd said.

There was a slight pause, in which Bilbo's smile kind of plastered to his face, and he gave a nervous chuckle, wagging his finger as his other hand slipped something into the pocket of his now button-less waistcoat, something that gleamed gold before disappearing…

Looking around, Alison realized that she and Gandalf were the only ones who had noticed the gleam, and she met the Wizard's gaze as his eyes lingered on Bilbo's pocket suspiciously. A knowing of information seemed to pass between the two, and Alison guessed that Gandalf knew what Bilbo had found just as much as Alison did.

"Well, what does it matter?" Gandalf said airily, turning back to face Bilbo. "He's back."

"It matters," Thorin spoke up, still staring at the Hobbit with an expression of stony abashment. "I want to know; why did you come back?"

There was a slight pause as Bilbo stared at Thorin for a few seconds, as if weighing his answer. "Look, I know you doubt me," he said eventually, meeting the Dwarf king's gaze head-on. "I know—I know you always have. And you're right. I often do think about Bag-End; I miss my books, and my armchair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, because…you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."

A weighted silence met his words, and Alison smiled as the Dwarves looked on in admiration, Thorin nodding stiffly at the Hobbit's words.

Suddenly, from high above them on the mountain-side, there came a resounding howl that Alison recognized all too well, where it was soon joined by another chorus of howls that were far too close for comfort.

The Company all tensed at the sound, and Alison felt her heart beating hard against her rib-cage once more, every instinct in her body screaming at her to run. The Orcs had found them.

"Out of the frying pan—" Thorin started, his hand clenched tightly upon the hilt of Orcrist at his waist.

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished. "Run. Run!"

And they did, sprinting down the slope of the mountain-side as the sun bled red upon the ground and the howls of the Wargs echoed behind them.

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**Ooooh, intense. And Alison is finally living up to her legacy, yayyy! (It's like two o'clock in the morning here so this is basically all the chapter commentary you're getting because I'm too tired to write anything else haha)**

**Sooo, thank you all for your wonderful reviews last time! They were all so great and I appreciate every one of them (even though y'all chewed me out for that last cliffhanger;)) So, as usual, please keep them coming! I love hearing from y'all!:)**

**Thank you, lovelies! Until next chapter...**


	16. 16: Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

**Ahh, you know what's great about three day weekends? The fact that I have enough time to upload two chapters instead of one. Yeah, it's nice...**

**Anyway, so here's Chapter 16, and I hope y'all like it!:)**

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Chapter Sixteen: Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

Night had descended upon the Misty Mountains, casting the mountain-side into shadows that seemed to warp and bend to the Company's movements as they ran through the trees, and in any other circumstance, Thorin thought it would have been the most beautiful night he had seen since leaving Rivendell almost three weeks ago.

The sky was like velvet, shimmering in different hues of deep blues and inky blacks, the glittering stars reminding him of the metal shavings that used to sparkle on the stone floors of the forges in Erebor. The moon was full and bright, washing the landscape in a pure silver glow and giving them good light to see by as they continued to run down the side of the mountain. It truly was stunning, but the serenity of the scene was splintered as the Warg howls tore through the night behind them, sounding much closer than they had before as they pursued the Company down the mountain-side.

Thorin guarded the rear, Orcrist solid and gleaming in his hand, glowing faintly blue, but it wasn't at its brightest, which he took some small comfort in; the Orcs weren't too close to them yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up to them.

As they sprinted on, farther down the mountain-side, Thorin's thoughts tumbled and whirled inside of his head as he thought about the Orc pack chasing them, and he remembered the Goblin King's words with a nightmarish sort of clarity: _"I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head…a pale Orc, astride a white Warg."_

Thorin knew that Azog was dead; he had cut off the vile creature's arm himself and defeated the Pale Orc, driving him back into Moria in disgrace. But at the Great Goblin's ominous proclamation, doubt had seeped back into him, and Thorin began to wonder if what the king had said was true. Thorin may have injured Azog, but did anyone really know if he had died from the wound inflicted on him by the Dwarf? Thorin had watched himself as Azog was dragged back into the Gates of Moria, in pain, bleeding and armless, but certainly not dead as his roars echoed around the plains of Azanulbizar. Maybe it was possible, maybe in some inconceivable way, it was possible…

_No, _Thorin thought to himself firmly as he pushed on, noticing how Orcrist was beginning to glow steadily brighter in his hand, and he could begin to feel the heavy footfalls of giant Warg paws trembling through the ground behind him. _Do not let the words of some grotesque and repulsive, manipulative excuse for a king lead your thoughts astray. Azog _is _dead. _

But the seeds of doubt were still planted in his mind, and he tried his hardest to ignore them as suddenly a shout rent the air from the front of the Company where Gandalf was leading, jarring Thorin violently from his thoughts and back into the present.

The Company had stopped running, and now they all looked in fear and panic around them, clutching their weapons as their gazes swept from side to side. Thorin looked to see what they were staring at, opening his mouth to order them on, but he suddenly stopped, realizing what exactly was wrong.

The mountain-side they had been running on abruptly ended a few meters in front of Gandalf, ending in a narrow sliver of mountain that jutted over the valley far below, a strip of cliff that pointed out like a finger in empty air. They were trapped on the mountain-side.

Thorin cursed viciously in Khuzdûl as the vibrations from the Wargs' paws rumbled closer, and he began to hear their heavy, powerful bodies crashing through the undergrowth behind them, barking and snapping and howling. Thorin looked around for any inspiration that would help them out of this mess, and his eyes landed on a cluster of tall pine trees near the cliff's edge; not his first choice for a place of defense, but it might help them all to live a while longer yet.

"Up into the trees!" he commanded, pointing to the trees as the snarls of the Wargs came ever closer. "All of you, climb!"

They sprinted the last ten meters to the trees just as the Wargs leaped out of the undergrowth, howling as they tore after the Company. Luckily, none of these had riders, and Thorin brought one down quickly with a savage blow to its neck. He hurtled past Bilbo and Nori, the latter who swung his huge battle hammer back behind his head and caved in a Warg's skull in one fell swoop, not even breaking his stride as he made for the trees.

"Go! Up!" Thorin shouted at the Dwarves, Bilbo, and Alison as he made for the farthest tree where Gandalf was clambering up into the branches. As he ran by, he saw Fili and Kili scaling one of the trees closer to the one Thorin began to climb up, some people taking refuge in one tree, some in another, and some, like Dwalin, Balin, Ori, and Dori, climbing into the one him and Gandalf were occupying.

Thorin looked to see if everyone had made it into their trees, watching as Fili hauled Alison up into the branches of the tree he shared with his brother and Bombur, his eyes lingering momentarily on the blood soaking the girl's jacket from a wound on her shoulder before cataloging the rest of the Company. Everyone was accounted for, except for Bilbo.

Thorin saw the Hobbit still on the ground, desperately trying to free his sword from the skull of a Warg he had obviously just killed, but to no avail. Thorin tensed as more Wargs drew near, making for the Hobbit, and he prepared to jump from the tree to go and save him when Bilbo finally managed to pull free his small sword and sprint for the trees, leaping up into Fili and Kili's and barely avoiding a Warg's fangs as its jaws snapped shut on the place where his foot had been just a moment ago.

Now they were all accounted for, and Thorin watched as the Wargs circled below them angrily, their predatory eyes gleaming like sparks in the darkness as more began to appear out of the trees behind them, bearing fearsome Orc riders upon their backs that surveyed the Company's defensive positions with sneers and hoarse rasps of laughter. Thorin gritted his teeth at their jeering and turned to face Gandalf, who was situated in the branches above him, planning on asking the Wizard if he had any grand scheme up his sleeve that would help pull them out of this mess. Instead he saw the Wizard whispering softly into his cupped hand, and watched in confusion as he released a tiny fluttering moth that promptly flew away, Gandalf watching it go with a certain gleam in his eyes Thorin didn't know what to make of.

Before he could ask what the Wizard had done though, there was a sudden sharp intake of breath from Balin beside him on his right shoulder, and he looked hard to the older Dwarf. Balin's face was almost as white as his beard, and his eyes were as round as saucers, reflecting the light of the moon as he stared at something on the ground with an expression of shock and disbelief.

Thorin's heart rate increased just from looking at his friend's face, and in some trepidation, he looked to where Balin was staring as every instinct in him screamed, _Don't look! Whatever it is, just don't look! _But it was too late.

A figure was emerging out of the trees, a huge, powerful profile that rippled with muscle and malice, astride a Warg that was twice the size of the others, with thick fur that gleamed white in the moonlight and yellow eyes that glowed like lanterns. But Thorin's attention was not riveted on the Warg, but rather its rider. As the figure came closer, entering into the beams of moonlight shining upon the cliff-edge, its pale skin shone almost translucently, almost as white as the moon itself, yet criss-crossed with deep, ugly, puckered scars, some self-inflicted, and some from battles. Even from this distance, Thorin saw the Pale Orc's eyes lock onto him, freezing him in place with the hatred and anticipation that filled the Orc's cold, pale eyes, and he felt as if a burning dagger was being pushed into his heart as he realized that one of his worst nightmares was unfolding right before him.

"Azog," he breathed, almost frozen completely as the Orc smiled lifelessly at him, his features looking like they were carved from iron.

The Pale Orc inhaled exaggeratedly, his eyes never once leaving Thorin's face. He began to speak in the Black Speech, his words rasping down Thorin's spine like razor blades, cold and unyielding. Thorin, who had picked up on Black Speech from lessons long ago that he had been implored to go to by his father, listened as Azog spoke, his blood moving almost sluggishly through his veins.

"Do you smell it?" Azog rasped in his forsaken tongue. "The scent of fear?" He smiled again, directly at Thorin, his scarred features alive with amused hatred. "I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thráin."

The Company listened to the Orc in bewilderment, but Thorin had understood everything perfectly, and he felt as if a cold hand had clamped down on his windpipe, making it hard for him to breathe.

"It cannot be," he whispered, but he knew that this was real, that his mind was not playing tricks on him, no matter how much he wished that it was. Azog the Defiler stood before him in the flesh, very much unchanged except for the mace that now substituted as the arm Thorin had cut off so long ago, the same arm that had beheaded his grandfather, had held up Thrór's head in triumph and tossed it to Thorin's feet with contempt. Thorin felt physically sick as he remembered the glassy stare of his grandfather's lifeless blue eyes boring into him, and Azog chuckled low in his throat, as if knowing what Thorin was thinking of and enjoying watching him suffer.

Azog pointed his mace-arm to Thorin, grumbling, "That one is mine. Kill the others."

On the Orc's orders, the rider-less Wargs began to leap for the Company members sheltering in the trees, using their powerful haunches to push them off the ground and propel them high into the air, snapping at the Dwarves' feet as they bit and clawed at the trees with a ferocity that extended beyond primal instinct; this was pure, black malice.

"Drink their blood!" Thorin heard Azog command over the tumult, and he gripped Orcrist so hard he felt his fingers going numb. Suddenly, there was a splintering crack, and Thorin heard voices crying out and Alison's distinct feminine gasp over the sound. With difficulty, Thorin tore his gaze away from Azog's and watched as Fili, Kili, Bombur, Bilbo, and Alison's tree's roots ripped out of the ground, causing it to topple over into the other tree the rest of the Company was perched in with a resonating groan.

As the tree fell, the three Dwarves, the Hobbit and the girl jumped from their branches and landed among the other Company members, but they were having the same problem as they did. The Wargs had also uprooted their tree, and with the combined weight of the others and its neighboring tree falling into it, that tree began to lean and fall as well.

The Wargs continued to bite and snap at the Company as they began to leap into the tree Thorin and the others were in, making the trunk wobble unsteadily from the increased weight. As the last of the Company jumped into the branches of their tree, the other two pines toppled over the cliff-edge and knocked their own tree off-balance, causing it to tilt and dangle over the very edge of the cliff. Thorin glimpsed the dark valley floor far, far below them as he clung onto his branch with the available hand not occupied by Orcrist, watching as the two pines were swallowed by the shadows swathing the valley below before returning his gaze to the predicament currently unfolding before them.

Azog laughed at the precarious situation the Company was now in, and the other Orcs joined in, as well, drawing their weapons as if sensing how close the Company was coming to dying, either by falling or fighting. Both options were rubbish, but as Thorin's gaze locked with Azog's again, he felt rage boiling in his blood, whipping his survival instincts into a frenzy and awakening the guttering flame of vengeance that had been in his heart since the day Azog had destroyed his family. The Orc would _pay _for what he had done.

Thorin began to struggle to free himself from the entwining branches of the tree as Gandalf said, "Fili!" from somewhere above him, and he spared a cursory glance as the Wizard lit a pine cone on fire with his staff and pitched it to the circling Wargs below, causing them to skitter back in fear as the undergrowth began to catch aflame. Gandalf lit another pine cone and tossed it down to Fili, who was immediately below him on a branch he shared with Bilbo.

Bilbo grabbed up a pine cone, as well, using the flames from Fili's to start his own cone on fire, and soon everyone in the Company held blazing pine cones. They started chucking them at the Wargs and Orcs, who hissed and snarled in surprise and frustration as a blaze started amongst the greenery, forming a sort of barricade between them and the Company.

The Company cheered, emboldened by their small victory, but the cheers turned into panicked cries as the tree groaned and tilted even farther down, now hanging almost halfway over the cliff's edge. Ori lost his grip on his tree branch, and with a strangled cry, he fell until he grabbed hold of Dori's ankles as the older Dwarf dangled in mid-air, barely being able to hold on to his own branch as it is. Dori gasped, clinging on tighter to the branch, and Thorin hesitated as he finally managed to pull himself up onto the trunk.

He couldn't leave Dori and Ori clinging on for their lives, he couldn't ignore them. But as he looked from the fearful faces of his friends to the narrowed gaze of Azog, he also couldn't ignore the beast inside of him, roaring for revenge, either. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, standing up on the tree trunk that sloped down to the ground and removing his shield from his back, strapping it to his forearm.

"Gandalf," he said clearly. "Help them." He gestured with his head to Dori and Ori as he finished strapping his shield to his arm, and the Wizard's eyes widened as he realized what Thorin was about to do. The rest of the Company looked to him with shock and fear as it dawned on them too, and Dwalin struggled to climb onto the trunk as well, saying, "Thorin, don't—"

But Thorin turned away from them, staring down the Pale Orc as he started down the tree trunk, raising Orcrist in his hand as he began to charge at the Orc, hefting his shield as he went. How befitting it was, that he should go into battle with the Pale Orc once again, wearing this same shield, hewn from the very oaken branch he had gotten his name from, the very branch that had saved his life in combat with Azog in the first place. Azog's eyes widened fractionally as Thorin barreled closer, obviously recognizing the shield with an angry twitch in his jaw, raising the mammoth mace he carried in his real hand as his fake one glinted in the moonlight.

Thorin charged closer, the blood roaring in his ears and his heart pounding out a steady beat like an anvil in the forges, and when he was a few meters away from the Pale Orc, Azog spurred his Warg forward, the creature leaping for Thorin with a roar.

Thorin didn't have time to dodge, and the Warg's heavy paws smashed into his lower abdomen with enough force to drive the air from his lungs and cause an explosion of pain to rip through his gut, making his insides burn as he landed on his back, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

_Have to get up, _he thought through the haze of pain clouding his mind. _Get up. _He blinked the fog from his eyes, wheezing in air as he struggled to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his sword and shield as he straightened up. He had to keep fighting. He couldn't stop until this vile creature was dead, this monster that had killed his family. He had to destroy him.

No sooner had he gotten to his feet then Azog was there again, this time slamming his mace into Thorin's chest, and Thorin could feel the crippling blow even through the protection of his armor. He sank to the ground once more, spots dancing in his eyes as his chest heaved desperately, trying hard to suck air into his lungs once again. Distantly, he saw Azog's Warg round on him again, and by its master's urging, the creature clamped its powerful jaws around Thorin's upper body, crunching down so hard Thorin felt his ribs compressing under the pressure and its fangs digging into his unprotected skin like individual knives, causing him to bellow in pain.

Mustering the last of his strength, Thorin raised Orcrist and sliced the blade down the Warg's muzzle, earning a snarl of pain from the creature as its grip on him slackened. Unfortunately, Thorin had only infuriated the creature instead of causing any real harm to it, and the Warg let go of him as it flung him through the air with a savage growl.

Thorin flew like a rag-doll, crashing into a large rock protruding out of the ground, and he felt Orcrist being knocked out of his hand from the force of the impact, skittering away across the stone and landing beyond his reach. Thorin was dazed, and he stared at the stars twinkling coldly above him for a moment before bringing his eyes back down to earth.

He saw Azog watching him with hatred etched into his iron features, his scars rippling as he said five words in the Black Speech to the Orc nearest him: "Bring me the Dwarf's head."

Smiling malevolently, the towering Orc next to Azog swung down from his steed and approached Thorin leisurely, his grin widening as he unsheathed his great, broad sword, the edge gleaming cruelly in the light from the moon.

Thorin reached for his own blade, his fingernails scraping against the rock and tearing up his skin as he searched desperately for the sword, but it was too far from his reach. Thorin glared defiantly at the Orc as it approached casually, fingering its blade thoughtfully as it smiled down at him. Thorin tried to articulate words, but no sound came out; his tongue was weighed too heavily with pain to speak, though he would never allow the Orc to see that.

Thorin felt the cold steel of the blade kiss the skin on his neck, and he thrust out his hand in one last effort to reach his sword, but his bloodied fingertips still grasped on nothing but stone.

The Orc raised the sword high above its head, ready to chop Thorin's own off, but with a sudden battle cry, a small figure launched itself at the Orc and knocked it to the ground, wrestling with the giant creature in the grass. Dimly, Thorin realized that it was _Bilbo _who had attacked the Orc, and he felt a flicker of incredulity go through him before that was swallowed up by the pain enveloping his body. He was fading, losing consciousness as he watched Bilbo take his sword and plunge it into the Orc's chest, killing it, and Thorin felt as if he were watching everything happen as if from a great distance as Bilbo got to his feet, swinging his sword threateningly at the encroaching Orcs and Wargs around them.

He had to stay awake…he had to… But Thorin was slipping away, his eyelids fluttering as the acrid smell of smoke hung in the air, burning his nostrils, and the distant sounds of what seemed like a battle reached his ears…

Thorin suddenly saw the faces of his father and his grandfather swimming in front of his eyes, and he felt a stab of pain lance through his heart as they seemed to stare sternly down at him. _I'm sorry, _he tried to say. _I have failed you. I'm sorry._

But already the images of them were fading away, just like Thorin, and the last thing he saw before sinking into oblivion was the clearing burning around him, alight with red and orange flames, and his foggy mind was reminded of the dragon fire that had destroyed his home, that had taken all that he had. Then the flames themselves burned out as his eyes closed, and he knew no more.

* * *

Bilbo watched the clearing below him burning with a detached sort of fear as the Wargs and Orcs circled around the flames, eyeing them with frustration at the barricade that had formed between them and the Company perched precariously in their tree.

Bilbo knew he ought to have been more terrified concerning their current situation, but he wasn't, not really. Maybe he was still emboldened by his great escape from the goblin-tunnels and killing a Warg, or maybe he had just reached the maximum capacity for fear to where he didn't feel it anymore, but either way, he certainly felt a lot braver than he ever had on the journey so far.

However, he began to rethink his observation a bit as the tree they were perched in tilted alarmingly, and suddenly they were all dangling in empty air out over the shadowy valley far below, and Bilbo clung onto his branch for dear life, watching as Dori and Ori nearly fell from their branch a couple meters away from Bilbo's.

Bilbo watched the two Dwarves flailing in a panic, wishing that he were close enough to help them. He had always liked the quiet and polite Ori, and though he had never really interacted with Dori, he didn't want to see the Dwarf fall to his death, either.

"Gandalf," came Thorin's voice from behind Bilbo. "Help them." Bilbo turned around with difficulty on his branch, seeing the Dwarf king standing up steadily on the trunk of the tree, his oaken branch shield strapped to his forearm and the blue blade of Orcrist glowing in his hand. His blue eyes roiled with rage and a haunted sort of hatred, but his shoulders were broad and proud, and silhouetted against the gold of the fire and the backdrop of the smoky night sky, Bilbo thought that he looked more like a king than he had seen him before.

Bilbo's eyes slid past Thorin's profile to the clearing beyond, and he saw Azog the Defiler there, astride his gigantic Warg and watching Thorin with a hungry gleam in his gaze, and Bilbo guessed what Thorin was about to do. He looked to the Dwarf king with wide eyes, and everybody else did, too, as they realized what was about to happen also.

"Thorin, don't—" Dwalin said, grunting with the effort of trying to pull himself up onto the trunk beside him, but with one last look full of determination and anger, Thorin turned and began to charge down the tree trunk, roaring a challenge as he barreled closer to Azog. But as he watched, Bilbo saw Azog's Warg lunge for the Dwarf king, knocking him flat on the ground as he laid there, slightly disoriented from the sudden attack of the Warg.

Bilbo continued to watch, his heart in his throat, as Thorin got to his feet, but immediately being knocked down again as Azog charged by, swinging his mace and catching Thorin in the chest with a staggering blow. This time, though, Thorin couldn't force himself to his feet, and the Warg circled around again, clamping its huge jaws around Thorin's torso and biting down, hard, causing a roar of pain to rip out of Thorin's throat.

"Thorin!" Dwalin yelled, and by this point, everyone in the Company was struggling to free themselves from their branches and clamber onto the trunk, desperate to save their leader. Even Bilbo found himself straggling out of his branch, watching in horror as Thorin raised his sword and cut at the Warg's muzzle, causing it to fling him through the air until he landed painfully on a rock, his sword clattering out of his hand.

By some unknown force, Bilbo found himself clinging to the tree trunk, and he dragged himself into an upright standing position, balancing on the swaying trunk, his eyes riveted to the scene before him.

An Orc was sauntering over to where Thorin lay, nearly incapacitated on the ground as Azog and the other Orcs and Wargs watched in anticipation, and Bilbo saw Thorin groping for his sword, but it was too far out of his reach.

As if his movements belonged to somebody else, Bilbo found himself unsheathing his sword, the blade shimmering blue at the surrounding Orcs' presence, and he held it steady, watching as the giant Orc looming over Thorin took out its own great, curved blade, examining it thoughtfully as Thorin feebly struggled beneath him, still trying to reach his blade.

Bilbo turned quickly as he heard a terrified shout come from Ori, and he saw Dori's grip slipping on his branch, and he cried out, "Mister Gandalf!" before his hands slipped entirely from the branch. He and Ori fell for a few feet before Gandalf jutted his staff downwards and Dori grasped it, Ori still clinging to his older brother's ankles in fear as they dangled far above the valley floor below.

Seeing they were safe for now, Bilbo turned back to watch the Orc as it skimmed its blade across Thorin's neck, and Bilbo knew he had to do something. Steeling himself, and vaguely wondering what on earth he was getting himself into, Bilbo raised his sword and charged at the Orc, his feet gliding almost soundlessly over the ground and giving him the advantage of surprise, for the Orcs were too wrapped up in their spectacle to see him coming.

As the Orc raised its sword above its head, preparing for the beheading swing, Bilbo tore into the clearing and launched himself at the Orc, slamming into it hard and knocking it to the ground as the Orcs and Wargs behind him snarled and hissed in surprise and fury.

_Oh, help me, _Bilbo prayed to whatever force was listening, as the Orc roared and bucked beneath him, trying to reach its sword, but Bilbo was pinning the Orc to the ground with his body, and he raised his own sword in his hands, driving the tip of it down into the Orc's chest.

The Orc screeched as the blade sank in deeper, and Bilbo tried not to faint at the feeling and noise the sword made as it plunged into the Orc's chest. He removed the blade quickly and practically leaped off of the Orc's body as it choked and went still, and he turned and faced the surrounding Orcs, stumbling slightly as he raised his sword and met the gaze of Azog.

The Pale Orc looked enraged, but it was hard to tell since his features were so carven, but Bilbo got the idea of what the Orc was thinking as he rasped out words in the Black Speech that Bilbo couldn't understand and the Wargs and Orcs began to slowly advance on him.

_Perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all, _Bilbo thought as he swung his sword threateningly, but it was like waving a stick for all the good it did him. One of the Wargs nearest him swiped its tongue eagerly over its lips, and Bilbo gulped, sure he was about to die, when suddenly a battle cry came from his right, and as he whipped his head toward the sound, he saw most of the Company come charging at the Orcs, swinging their weapons and yelling fiercely as they crashed into the Orcs.

The Wargs reared back and staggered from the sudden attack of the Dwarves while the Orcs hissed and tried to stay on their mounts, brandishing their weapons at the Company as the fight began.

Once Bilbo got over his initial shock at seeing the Dwarves come tearing into the clearing, he figured he should probably help instead of just standing there with his mouth hanging open, and he raised his sword once more, yelling as he lunged for a Warg standing near him and cutting its flank, making the creature howl in fury as it turned on him.

The Warg stumbled as it faced him, the cut on its side throwing off its balance, and with a cry of surprise, the Orc rider on its back toppled off from its movement. Instantly the Orc was on its feet again, rushing at Bilbo along with the Warg, but suddenly Alison was there, swinging at the Orc with her Twin Blades flashing in the fire and moonlight with an intensity that matched the steel in her eyes as the Orc turned its attention on her and began to fight.

Bilbo faced the Warg by itself now, and as the creature charged towards him, he side-stepped and brought the blade down on its neck; not hard enough to kill it, but causing enough damage to where it slipped on the grass and crashed down on its side, its paws scrabbling on the ground as it struggled back to its feet, growling viciously. It came at him again, and this time, Bilbo wasn't so lucky.

He moved too slow, not getting out of the way in time, and the Warg barreled into him, throwing him off-balance and into the path of another Warg. Bilbo smashed into the Warg's muzzle, and he realized with a stab of fear that the Warg was the one that bore Azog on its back.

The white Warg shook off Bilbo and knocked the Hobbit down as Azog started in surprise on its back, his eyes narrowing as he realized who Bilbo was. Azog spurred his Warg forward, but at that moment, there was a piercing shriek from above, and Bilbo looked up along with the Orc, his heart nearly bursting with what he saw.

Eagles, great, powerful Eagles with feathers that glimmered like burnished gold, bronze and copper, and wingspans that spanned the length of several tall Men were swooping down upon the clearing, crying out with their clear, strong voices as they descended upon the cliff-edge.

Bilbo watched as the Wargs and Orcs reared in fear, and the Eagles began to swoop in, using their talons to pick up Wargs and fly them through the flames surrounding the clearing before dropping them off into empty space with howls of terror. Soon the nauseating scent of charred hair and flesh swept over the clearing as the Eagles fanned the flames with their wings, driving the Orcs and Wargs back from the Company as the Dwarves began to climb onto their offered backs, and Bilbo finally realized what Gandalf had been doing with that moth in the tree earlier: he had been sending a message for the Eagles to come and help them.

Suddenly, there was a groaning crack coming from the extreme edge of the cliff, and Bilbo looked over to see the tree Gandalf, Dori, and Ori were still in finally tear its roots free of the ground and fall over the edge, Gandalf still in the branches while Dori and Ori lost their grip on the Wizard's staff and began to free-fall, until suddenly an Eagle soared in and the Dwarves landed on its back, the great bird bearing them away up into the smoke-filled sky as another Eagle did the same for Gandalf, who had jumped out of the tree and landed on his Eagle's back with one deft movement.

By this point, most of the Company had climbed onto the Eagles' backs, and only Bilbo and Thorin were left in the clearing as most of the remaining Orcs and Wargs fled back up the mountain-side in terror. Azog stayed behind, his eyes wide with rage as he saw the Eagles escaping with the Company, and suddenly those eyes found Bilbo, the penetrating coldness of the stare freezing him in place as two more Eagles swooped in, one for Bilbo and one for Thorin.

Bilbo, suddenly realizing that the Eagle was about to pick him up with its talons, started to sputter and back away, but the Eagle took him up into its claws and promptly _dropped _him. Bilbo yelled, until suddenly another Eagle swooped in below him, catching him on its back as it shrieked and banked, soaring upwards to join the rest of the circling Eagles with the other Company members upon their backs.

"Was that really necessary?" Bilbo gasped as he clung onto his new Eagle's plumage, shooting a look over his shoulder to the one that had dropped him so unceremoniously. But the Eagle had already flapped away, and instead he saw the last Eagle picking up Thorin and his sword in its talons, the Dwarf king unconscious as he was borne away from the clearing. As Bilbo watched, Thorin's oaken shield, which had been dangling loosely from his arm, slipped off and fell back down to the clearing below, where it was swallowed by the flames still raging on the cliff's edge.

The last Eagle bearing Thorin joined their wheeling group up in the sky, and with the last member of the Company safe, the Eagles began to bank and soar over the Misty Mountains, leaving the burning clearing behind them. A roar echoed behind the retreating Company, a wild, enraged bellow that rang around the mountains and seemed to follow the Company the farther away they flew, and with a bad feeling, Bilbo knew that this was not the last time they would see Azog. The Defiler would be back, and he would want revenge on all of them.

The Eagles continued to bank and soar over the snow-capped peaks of the Misty Mountains, and Bilbo realized how high they must be if they were flying _over _the peaks, high enough to where they could see the snow dusting the tops of the mountains and feel the crisp, sharp coldness of the air, which came as a relief after the fever and heat of the fire in the clearing.

The Company soared on through the night, until the bright stars began to wink out one by one and the moon gave up its place in the sky for the sun, the inky blue of the night giving way to the bright serenity of the dawn.

Looking ahead, his fingers still grasping the soft silkiness of his Eagle's feathers, Bilbo thought he had never seen something as remarkable or extraordinary as the dawn he was seeing before him. Up here, in the highest reaches of the air, the colors spread and shone like the richest, purest light in the world, touching all the vast reaches of the horizon in hues of pink, violet, orange and gold as the sun rose up before them, splendid and surreal in all of its glory.

_Imagine what the others back home would say if they saw what I was doing right now, _Bilbo thought giddily, and he smiled to himself, suddenly not being able to stop as relief bubbled up in him, mixed with wonder and exhilaration at what he was doing. He was flying on an _Eagle, _a creature he had only ever heard or read about in legends back in the Shire. He was on an Eagle, flying over the Misty Mountains, on an _adventure. _Somehow, the notion didn't sink in truly until that moment, and Bilbo felt equal measures of excitement and terror flooding through him. He was actually on an adventure!

"Thorin!" Fili's voice yelled out from somewhere behind Bilbo, and Bilbo turned around to look at the older Dwarf prince, his attention snapping back to reality. Fili was practically standing up on the Eagle he shared with Kili, his gaze worried as he looked to somewhere to the right of Bilbo.

Bilbo craned his head over the side of his Eagle, seeing the one that was carrying Thorin swooping beside him. The Dwarf king was still unconscious in the Eagle's talons, and in the light of the dawn, Bilbo saw why Fili was so concerned. Thorin's face was ashy and pale, and even from where he was Bilbo could see the bruises dappling his skin and the dried blood crusting the numerous cuts and abrasions all over his face from his fight with the Pale Orc.

Thorin looked on the brink of death, and Bilbo felt dread run through him at the thought of what would happen to them all should Thorin die from his injuries. _Hold on, Thorin, _Bilbo found himself thinking almost subconsciously. _Just hold on._

And he kept repeating this to himself, over and over again, as the Eagles soared above the mountains, flying towards the rising sun before them.

* * *

Alison hoped her Eagle didn't mind that much as her blood seeped onto its feathers, clotting the beautiful coppery plumage no matter what she did to staunch the bleeding. It had slowed down considerably since she had jumped onto her Eagle's back, but she could still feel the heat of it running down her arm from where it oozed out of her shoulder.

Since they had been running from the Orcs for most of the evening, she had never stopped to patch up the bite wound she had received from one of the goblins on her shoulder, and while it had seemed shallow at the time, all the exertion she had done and the strain she had put on it climbing and jumping through trees and fighting the Orcs had opened it more fully, and as the adrenaline in her system wore off, boy did it _hurt._

Alison felt like her whole arm was going numb with the pain from it, and the wound itself throbbed and flared with the slightest muscle twinge or movement. She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, though, watching as the velvet night shifted into a dazzling dawn and using her hand to apply pressure to the wound even as she felt like she was about to pass out from the contact.

"Thorin!" Fili's voice cried from ahead of her, and Alison looked up to see Thorin, dangling limply from the talons of his Eagle and looking like he was practically on death's door. Alison's breath caught in her throat, flashing back to the fight between Azog and Thorin on the cliff's edge while the fire had raged around them.

She had felt like claws were digging into her heart as she watched Thorin being overpowered by his greatest enemy, on the verge of being beheaded until Bilbo had surprised them all by killing the Orc and turning into the hero of the day.

As Bilbo had charged at the Orc about to decapitate Thorin, Alison had finally managed to clamber up onto the tree trunk and draw her swords as all the others besides Gandalf, Dori, and Ori made it up as well, drawing their own weapons again. They started forward, yelling battle cries, and Alison made to follow when suddenly a hand grabbed her arm, forcing her back gently, yet firmly.

"Alison, don't," Fili said, pulling her back, and Alison looked to him in confusion. "These are Orcs, not goblins. They are seasoned warriors, and you are not. Stay here. Don't get hurt." His gray-blue eyes searched hers, and Alison stared back, not quite believing what she was hearing.

"You want me to stay behind?" she repeated, hoping he was joking, but he wasn't. The look in his eyes and the grip on her arm was enough to tell her that. She tried to pull her arm from his grasp, but he held fast, his gaze still beseeching hers.

"Just stay out of this one," he implored, hefting one of his own iron swords in his other hand as the sounds of battle reached their ears. "You're not ready to take on these kinds of adversaries. Don't do this."

Anger boiled in Alison as she slid her gaze over his shoulder, seeing Bilbo tackle a Warg with his small sword as the rest of the Company surged around him. She couldn't sit on the sidelines for this one. She had to help Bilbo and the others.

"Watch me," she replied, and with a forceful tug, she yanked her arm free from Fili's grasp and hurtled to where the Hobbit was, watching in fear as a Warg and an Orc advanced on him, and without thinking, Alison launched herself at the Orc, bringing up her swords for a battle position.

One thing Alison had realized, though, as she had engaged the Orc, was that Fili was completely right. These weren't dim-witted goblins that couldn't tell the difference between a sword and their foot; these were Orcs, led by Azog the Defiler himself, and they had been trained on how to fight; and, more importantly, how to kill.

So when the Orc had come at her in all of its towering, fearsome brutality, she was completely taken off-guard at how ferociously the Orc fought, swinging and cutting and hacking its blade at her in such fast increments she had had to go on the defensive, using all of her strength and wits just to keep the Orc's blade from hitting her. In just a few moments, she was exhausted, and she had felt the wound on her shoulder open even further, trickling blood down her arm inside of her jacket sleeve, making her moves more awkward and clumsy.

After blocking a jab from the Orc's sword, she hadn't even realized its other hand swinging out of nowhere until it connected with her stomach, forcing the air out of her body and making her sink to her knees, her mouth gaping as she struggled to breathe.

In a daze, she watched as the Orc raised its blade, preparing for the killing blow, and she brought up Natrem weakly, knowing that the blade couldn't help her at all. She was entirely at the Orc's mercy, and time seemed to slow down as the blade swung towards her, cleaving through the air right for her head—

But the blade missed by inches. Not from the Orc's own personal doing; no, the problem was the blade sticking out of the Orc's chest, and the Orc looked down at it in surprise, as if wondering how it had gotten there. Then, with a sickening squelching sound, the blade was yanked from the Orc's chest, the tip disappearing, and the Orc crumpled to the ground at Alison's knees.

She stared at it, speechless, and then looked up, seeing Fili standing in front of her, his sword dripping with thick, oily blood and his eyes sparking with anger. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something to her, but the words cut off as suddenly a shriek had sounded from above them, and they looked up to see the Eagles swooping in to save them.

Alison had gotten on her Eagle without question, her arms weighing like lead as she had replaced her swords in her scabbards, and now here she was, bleeding and incredibly sore, perched on an Eagle's back as they flew over the snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains as the dawn sky stretched out before them.

They flew for another hour, and the sun was truly beginning to rise as they emerged from the largest of the peaks and flew low over some smaller ones, and Alison saw a towering mass of rock in front of them, like a naturally carved stone platform, and the Eagles made for it, circling around it as they went one by one to deposit the Dwarves on their backs. Thorin's Eagle went first, gently laying the Dwarf king down on the rock with Orcrist settling next to him, and then Bilbo's Eagle, then Alison's, and so on.

When Alison slid off of her Eagle's back, she nearly crumpled to the ground as a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she pressed her hand harder into her shoulder as it hit her just how much blood she had lost.

The other Dwarves began to congregate on the rock, staring at Thorin with worry and fear as the Dwarf king still lay motionless, the dawn light casting his bruised and bloodied face into deeper contrast. And then Gandalf was there, sweeping off of his Eagle and hurrying to the Dwarf king's side.

"Thorin," Gandalf said, and when there was no response, Gandalf put a hand over the Dwarf's face and began to mutter an incantation Alison didn't understand.

As the Wizard worked, Alison saw Óin approaching her and she turned to face the Dwarf as he neared, taking out a small pouch from the inside of his cloak.

"Here, lass, let's get you cleaned up," he said. Alison nodded, peeling away her torn jacket and shirt to reveal the bite mark on her shoulder, wincing slightly as the soaked fabric clung to her skin a bit where the dried blood of the wound was. Óin clucked his tongue in disapproval and set to work on her, using a rag torn off his shirt to rub away the blood since they had no water-skins to use to clean the blood off. After he cleaned it up as best as he could, he took some herbs from his medicine pouch and gently rubbed it in to her shoulder, patting her arm comfortingly as she sucked in a sharp breath at the sting of the herbs as they worked their way into her wound.

"There," the Dwarf said, dressing her wound with a strip of bandages he found shoved in the bottom of his pouch. "Luckily those goblins had no need for a medicine pouch and decided to leave it. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"A scratch on my arm," she said, extending her forearm to show the healer Dwarf as he looked to her in confusion, not being able to hear her very well through his flattened trumpet. "But it's not as serious as my shoulder."

"Aye," he agreed, inspecting the wound closely. "It's very shallow, not too much to worry about. Put some of this on it and you'll be fine. You won't even need a bandage." He offered her a tiny bottle of salve, and she wondered what all that Dwarf had managed to fit inside such a small pouch as she rubbed it in, handing back the bottle before he moved away to tend to the others.

Everyone was still watching Gandalf try and revive Thorin anxiously, but another Dwarf was approaching Alison, and she tore her eyes away from the still figure of the Dwarf king to see who it was. To her dismay, it was Fili, and she stifled a sigh as the Dwarf prince marched over to her, his eyes hard and angry.

She was forcibly reminded of the day he had pulled her out of the river, and she felt guilty as she realized she had done something stupid and reckless again and he had had to save her, and then she felt irritated that she felt guilty. She had been trying to help this time, not show off, and if Fili was going to jump down her throat for it, she'd fight back, no matter how much her heart was fluttering at the sight of him as he drew closer.

"Okay, look," she said. "I know you're about to lecture me about what I did, so let's just get to the point. I know what I did was impulsive and dangerous, that I wasn't thinking, and I'm just reckless and stupid—"

But she suddenly cut off as his hands reached up and cupped her face, his eyes softening, and in the next moment, his lips were on hers, and everything she had been about to say died in her throat as he kissed her.

There were shocked exclamations from the Company and a whistle from Bofur, but Alison didn't pay attention, every fiber of her being focused on the soft, yet unyielding way Fili's lips moved against hers, and she reached up with her own hands, anchoring the back of his head and pressing his mouth more firmly against hers, wanting to do this since practically the first day she had met him. It wasn't a long kiss, but still she felt her heart pounding and her fingertips pulsing as they broke apart after a few long seconds, meeting each other's gazes with wide eyes.

She had no idea where that had come from, and as she looked at the burning depths in Fili's stormy eyes, she could tell that he was just as shocked as she was. Alison was clueless as to what to say to that, or what was possibly going to happen now as his hands still held her face and his eyes locked with hers, and she was only vaguely aware of the Company still openly staring at them in bewilderment. She debated on whether to say something romantically-cheesy or anything, but decided against it as Fili spoke for her.

"You _are _reckless and stupid," he agreed, grinning at her, and she laughed as he stepped away, dropping his hands, and she tried to ignore the feeling burning in her fingertips that just made her want to grab him and kiss him again.

However, the moment was shattered as Gandalf stood up behind them, saying, "Thorin!" in relief. Alison turned, seeing the Dwarf king's eyes open, and her heart leaped as she saw that he looked fine; beat up and slightly bloody, but otherwise, totally fine.

"The Halfling?" Thorin croaked, stiffly trying to sit up.

"It's all right," Gandalf replied, helping the Dwarf king to his feet as Thorin stood up with some difficulty, wincing slightly. Alison saw Bilbo standing on the other side of the rock, facing them with his back to the horizon behind him and looking immensely relieved as Thorin stood upright. "Bilbo is here."

Thorin saw where Bilbo was and started towards him, his expression as stony as ever as he said, "You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!"

Bilbo looked to Thorin in alarm at his harsh tone, and the Company watched in trepidation as Thorin stepped forward more towards the Hobbit. Alison started forward, clenching her fists, but Fili held her back, shaking his head silently.

"Did I not say you would be a burden?" Thorin said, stalking closer to Bilbo, and the Hobbit looked down, hurt flashing briefly in his eyes. "That you would not survive in the Wild, that you had no place amongst us?" There was a slight, tense pause, and then Thorin stepped forward once more, and to everyone's intense surprise, he said, "I have never been so wrong, in all my life."

And with that, he embraced Bilbo, and Alison almost laughed out loud at the befuddled expression on the Hobbit's face as he reached his arms around Thorin and hugged him back, patting his back uncertainly.

"I am sorry I doubted you," Thorin said, stepping back from Bilbo, and Bilbo smiled, looking genuinely relieved.

"No, I…I would have doubted me, too," he said. "I'm not a Hero, or a warrior," his gaze met Alison's as he said this, and she smiled before he swept his gaze over the rest of the Company and then looked back to Thorin. "I'm not even a burglar, really."

At that they all laughed, and then the Eagles, who had been wheeling in the sky near them and circling around for the past several minutes, cawed a final farewell and took to the sky again, soaring gracefully back over the mountain tops as the Company watched them depart in awe.

"Is that what I think it is?" Bilbo said from behind them, and Alison and the others turned around to find Thorin and Bilbo standing on the edge of the cliff, gazing out at the land before them.

Alison and the rest of the Dwarves walked over to the edge beside them, and Alison's breath caught in her throat as she looked out over the vastness of the Wild before her, green forests stretching out and filling her vision everywhere she looked. But that was not what had captured her attention.

Far off in the distance, a lonely peak jutted into the sky, silhouetted against the dawn sky like a beacon that awaited them, and Alison realized with a jolt what she was seeing a second before Gandalf spoke from behind them.

"Erebor!" the Wizard said, as everyone stared at the peak in awe and wonder, so far away but now so much closer than it had ever been since the start of their journey. "The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle-earth."

"Our home," Thorin said, and he gazed at the mountain with an expression of such joy and longing that Alison, who stood beside him, reached out her hand and placed it gently on his arm, smiling at him as he looked to her, his eyes shining and his face looking as unlined as she had ever seen it.

"Look!" Óin said, pointing above them to a bird that was fluttering overhead, flapping in the direction of the Lonely Mountain. "A raven. The birds are returning to the Mountain!"

"That, my dear Óin, is a thrush," Gandalf pointed out amusedly, and Alison joined in on the older Dwarf's slightly crestfallen look; she didn't know the difference between a thrush or a raven, either.

"Well we'll take it as a sign," Thorin said, turning his gaze back to the golden horizon. "A good omen."

"You're right," Bilbo said from his other side, as they all stared out at the Lonely Mountain together, the rising sun spilling forth all of its light into the sky above them and seeming to light up the Mountain like a flame, beckoning them forward on their journey. "I do believe the worst is behind us."

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**And so marks the end of An Unexpected Journey, part one of this story. But Desolation of Smaug is here now, YEAHHHH! Well, in a couple of chapters. Gotta fill the space between the two movies first, no matter how short the space, because I'm just like that. It's all in the details for me.**

***You can skip this next part; it's literally me just ranting***

**SO, list of things that went down in this chapter:**

**1) Thorin's POV: So basically I just wanted to capture his thoughts in what was going through his mind as he fought Azog, because the movie's just kinda like "okay you can fight now", and while his struggle is hinted at, I just wanted to convey what I personally think was going through his mind in those moments.**

**2) Bilbo's POV: I just basically wanted to show how much Bilbo had changed since first leaving the Shire, and what better way to do that than writing his heroic moment from his own eyes and his own thoughts?**

**(Jesus, I talk a lot. I'm almost done!)**

**And 3) Alison's POV: IT HAPPENED. THEY KISSED. OMG GUYS EVEN I WAS FANGIRLING WHEN WRITING IT. But don't fret if it wasn't romantic enough or anything! This was just a teaser for what is yet to happen...mwahahaha!**

**And now they see the Lonely Mountain! Things should start to get pretty interesting from here on out...**

**Okay, sorry for the long commentary, but I'm in a really talkative mood right now haha. So anyway, thanks for reading this chapter and for sticking with me thus far! I posted this story like a month ago and it's my first fanfic and I love all the support I'm getting for it! Like I reached 100 followers Saturday night and I was so excited because I never thought it would do so well!**

**Anyway, thanks again for reading, and for all of your reviews last time! (Do I really need to say keep them coming anymore?) Lol, but thank you SO much lovelies, for everything!:) Until next chapter...**


	17. 17: The World Ahead

**Hey guys! Soo Chapter 17 is here!**

**Okay, so this is a really short chapter, but this is what I like to call a "filler" chapter, because it basically just fills the space in between the end of the first movie and the beginning of the second. It's like a calm before the storm, with the storm being the amount of craziness and action that goes down in DoS. But don't worry, after this we'll pick things back up!**

**So without further ado, here is Chapter 17! Hope y'all like!**

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Chapter Seventeen: The World Ahead

The only good thing about the treacherous climb down the Carrock, as Gandalf called it, was that it gave Alison time to think. As long as she kept her footing and one hand brushing against the rock to her left side, her mind was free to wander as the Company carefully picked their way down the stone steps hewn from the rock itself. And she had _a lot _to think about.

Firstly, about the fact at what was coming ahead. Bilbo's earlier comment about the worst being behind them had made her want to laugh and scream in equal measure. She had wanted to say that the worst was definitely yet to come, but she had held her tongue, not wanting to get involved in the mess her supposed foresight would bring to the Company. But she was terrified.

If their journey stayed true to the path of the story, she remembered what came next, though not in minute detail: Mirkwood, Lake-town, Smaug himself, and, worst of all, the battle. Alison felt a cold hand brush its fingers across the back of her neck at the mere thought, but she forced it away. They still had a lot to cover before then, and right now, she didn't want to worry about it or the future complications it might bring.

So far, their quest had stuck true to the book, except for the slight problem of Azog actually being alive and now undoubtedly seeking revenge on all of them for thwarting his plan on adding Thorin's head to his collection. Despite that particular bump in the road, everything else had been sticking pretty true to the story she recalled, and she was torn between wanting to stick to the story-line as much as possible or deviating from the catastrophic path they were currently on. If they stuck to the book, she knew how things would work out and could use that to her advantage. But just the mere reminder of the ending made her insides feel cold, and part of her wanted to change the course of the future, just like Galadriel had said to her all those weeks ago. She knew she had the power to, but that power frightened her; could she actually be able to do it?

She didn't know. That seemed like the constant struggle of her life so far in Middle-earth; she didn't know anything concerning the outcome now, if it would change or stay the same because of her presence. It was maddening, not being able to see the definite future, but knowing she could shape it just from one small mistake. Especially concerning the fates of the line of Durin…

One of her feet suddenly slipped on an uneven step, and she would have landed flat on her butt if Fili's hands hadn't steadied her at the last second, sending a jolt of electricity through her at his touch. She glanced back with a quick, grateful smile, her eyes flicking to his, but he didn't notice her, just staring off into space with a frown tugging on his lips. She turned around again, confused at his expression as she continued to pick her way down the steps, wondering what he was thinking about that made him look so distant. Which led to the other big thing weighing on her mind.

It still didn't feel quite real, the kiss. It had reminded her of every romantic movie her best friend Lexi had forced her to watch on late Friday nights, where the guy always kissed the girl in the heat of the moment, just when she was going off on a rant that no one really cared about. But while completely cliché, Alison thought she had never enjoyed something so immensely in a _long_ time.

His nearness, his warmth, the pressure of his lips, the way his hands had cupped her face, so gently, the calluses and surprising softness of the way he had held her dancing across her skin…she hated to swoon, but _wow. _She had to give him props; the Dwarf knew how to sweep a girl off her feet. But while one half of her was nearly squealing in joy, the other part of her felt as if she were being slowly submerged in acid.

Alison had read the stories, where a mortal falls in love with someone they can never have from another world, either because their customs forbid it or something terrible would happen to the mortal if they did; either death, or something worse. And while Alison knew she didn't _love _Fili, he had given her a taste of something she realized she had been craving from him for a while now, and, frankly, it scared her. Considering the enormity of what they were doing, and (she tried not to think about it too seriously), the possible outcome of this quest, what she was getting herself into was definitely not a smart idea for either of them. And the longer she thought about it, the more implausible it seemed.

He was a prince of Durin, and she was still a human girl from the mortal world, Ashburne warrior or not. Either way, whatever was forming between them would not last, and that realization sent a tiny stab into her heart. Even if he survived (again, she tried not to dwell on this thought too much), he would be royalty, with a rebuilding kingdom to look after, and Alison was fairly certain that Dwarf customs would not allow a human like her to hold any position at all in a Dwarven society, if her and Fili even did become a thing. And undoubtedly she would be sent home once this quest was finished, never to return or see any of her friends again. And if this quest truly did end like the book, if Fili were to…

She shut down that train of thought quickly, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sense of dread that stole over her. _You are over-thinking things way too much, _she scolded herself, squinting at the bright shafts of afternoon sunlight that had appeared from behind the Carrock as they made their way further down. _Just take things one step at a time. _

But despite all the complications it had brought, she had still enjoyed the moment between her and Fili far too much than she should have, and she was nearly light-headed with the thought that maybe, just _maybe, _he might reciprocate the feelings she had been developing towards him since the start of their journey in Bilbo Baggins' Hobbit-hole so long if they were on a dangerous quest with no guarantee of survival, it was still nice to know that maybe there was something there to brighten the pressing darkness closing in on them the closer to the ending they got.

For the rest of the afternoon, the Company descended the carven stairs of the Carrock, and there was much laughter and joking around as they went. Like Bilbo, everyone thought that they were now in the clear, if only for a little while, and their spirits were the lightest they had been in days. The only people not joining in on the merriment were her and Thorin, who had reverted back to silence as the day wore on, no doubt thinking about what was coming ahead like she was as he walked at the front of the group, Gandalf and Balin right behind him.

Ever since their landing on top of the rock, Alison had been watching Thorin almost subconsciously from her place near the middle of the group, looking for any signs of his injuries. He had taken quite a beating back on the cliff-edge, and though Gandalf had revived him, she wasn't sure if the Wizard's super-amazing healing powers extended to lesser injuries like bruises or not, and she knew from experience that bruises on the torso were definitely not a pleasant sensation.

But the Dwarf king had led them on without signs of discomfort or pain, refusing to be checked by Óin before ordering them to move out, wanting to get down the rock before night fell and their descent became even more dangerous. Alison was quite impressed by his attitude as he led them down the rock with a new sense of vigor; despite seeing his worst enemy practically resurrect before his eyes, the sight of the Lonely Mountain had filled him with a sort of hopefulness, and even Alison was feeling a bit more eager as well from the vision of the peak rising up before them in the far distance.

By the time dusk was settling, they had descended entirely from the Carrock, and now they stood on a craggy plain dotted here and there with patches of grass and clusters of trees, surrounded by steep and rocky peaks; though not nearly as tall as the peaks of the Misty Mountains behind them, they were still pretty high, and Alison wrinkled her nose at the thought of even more climbing.

Thorin led them across a short stretch of plain until they reached a reasonably-sized copse of trees. "We'll camp here for the night," he said, stopping in the middle of the patchy, short-bristled grass spotting the clearing among the trunks. "We will begin our last stretch over the borders of the Mountains tomorrow morning, so get some rest." He rubbed his forearm absent-mindedly as he talked, and Alison wondered if there was an injury there he wasn't telling about.

"Glóin, Bofur, go collect some branches for a fire," he ordered. "Small ones that can be put out easily. I haven't been this side of the Misty Mountains in many years, and I do not know what creatures have made this place their home since then."

Bofur and Glóin nodded as he went on. "Kili, Miss Ashburne, you will take the first watch tonight. Wake Dwalin and I close to dawn and we will take over."

Alison nodded, seeing Kili do the same somewhere to her left, his face expressionless at his uncle's order. Bofur started coughing into his hand, trying to disguise a laugh, and Alison shot him a poisonous look, wondering what the Dwarf was snickering at.

"Don't you mean Alison and _Fili _should take the first watch?" he said slyly, and Thorin looked at him blankly as Alison felt her cheeks heat. Of course the Dwarf king hadn't seen her and Fili's kiss since he was unconscious, and Alison wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible, remembering his words from so long ago about keeping her distance and not forming attachments to his nephews, and she wasn't keen on finding out what he would say when he discovered what had happened between her and Fili.

The Dwarves shot Bofur a half-amused, half-scandalized look at his comment, while Thorin looked on in confusion and Alison blushed, trying not to look too guilty as Fili stood confidently, as unruffled as ever. The only people not amused were Gandalf, who looked slightly distracted, Bilbo, who seemed too lost in thought to really notice, and Kili, whose face was still devoid of any expression.

"No, I said _Kili _and Miss Ashburne," Thorin repeated, his brows furrowed as he looked around at the Company. "Why would I mean Fili instead?"

Bofur opened his mouth, grinning, to respond, but before he could say anything Alison cut in, trying to salvage the situation as much as possible before Thorin found out and blew up like an atomic bomb; there were only so many times she could push him before he snapped, and she figured that this was probably a _really _bad idea to tell him right then. Besides, that whole kiss might've been a one-time thing, and there was no use in worrying him about it.

"I think Bofur's just getting a little hard on hearing," she joked, smiling and trying to make her voice as light-hearted as she could. "Maybe it's time for him to invest in an ear trumpet like Óin's." As Thorin looked back to Bofur, Alison shot the Dwarf a dark glare and shook her head furtively behind Thorin's back, imploring Bofur not to say anything stupid.

Fortunately, the Dwarf seemed to respect her wish and instead laughed as the Company looked on, not quite sure what to do with themselves. Thorin looked confused for a moment more, but eventually he just shrugged and went to find himself a spot on the ground, and the rest of the Company followed suit.

Alison relaxed a little bit, her crisis averted, at least for the moment. She glanced to Fili to see his reaction, but he was already in deep conversation with Ori, and she felt a little bit miffed that he had even refused to acknowledge her after saving them both from a highly awkward situation, though she knew Thorin was bound to find out soon. Ignoring the twinge of frustration she felt at Fili's disregard, she claimed a spot on the ground that was as even as she could find, brushing away stones with her feet before sitting down, a wave of fatigue overcoming her.

The past day or so had been brutal for her, and her body felt like she had been used as a personal punching bag, her muscles stiff and sore and weary. Her shoulder stung a bit still from where the herbs were drawing out the effects of the goblin's bite, though she was just grateful the bleeding had stopped. Her skull was aching from the numerous times she had been slammed to the ground in Goblin Town, and the right side of her face felt tight and swollen from when one of the goblins had struck her. She shuddered at the reminder of Goblin Town, and though she knew she would probably regret it later once they continued on with their journey, she couldn't help thinking how glad she was to be out of that rough, crude, and violent place.

The sun was beginning to set, and as the night closed in, Alison felt her stomach contracting painfully and growling, begging her to feed it as she sat on her patch of ground, trying to ignore it. She had barely eaten in days since she was so stressed, but with the threat of Goblin Town behind, her hunger had returned full-force, and she literally felt sick she was so hungry.

The only problem was that they had no more supplies. After their dump from the cave into the goblin-tunnels, all of their packs and things had been lost or scavenged through, and now they had nothing to sustain them; no bedrolls, no blankets, no food, no water-skins, nothing. Alison didn't even have her chapstick anymore, and for some odd reason, this seemed to strike a low blow for her. Besides the travel-stained, worn and faded jeans she wore, the chapstick had been the only relic from home she had had, and its loss cut into her deeply, reminding her of just how alone she truly was, a mortal stuck in a world full of peril and magic, frolicking along on a quest that may or may not be doomed. The notion filled her with a sense of homesickness and longing, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them close to her chest in a childish attempt to ward off the sadness lingering on the edges of her peripheral as she sat, silent and brooding.

Before their watch was to begin, Thorin had sent Dwalin and Kili out to hunt for some food with the bow and scrounged up arrows Alison had managed to save from the goblins before their escape. As the shadows lengthened, Bofur and Glóin had started a tame fire in the center of the small clearing, and the Company gathered around it, their talking and joking having become increasingly subdued as the fact settled in that they had zero supplies, and no possible way yet to get more anytime soon.

Alison stayed on the edges of the Company, enjoying her small moment of solitude as the flames cast dancing shadows upon the ground at her feet and a small breeze played with her hair, a cool gust of summer air that held a tinge of something crisper, almost like autumn. Alison had completely lost track of time since leaving Rivendell, but if she had to guess, she would say it was probably mid-July, nearing the end of the month before August began, which shocked her. Had she really been in Middle-earth that long? And how much longer would she be staying? It blew her mind how fast time seemed to travel here, and she felt another twinge of sadness as she realized she had missed her younger siblings' birthday, whether they were time-frozen or not. She wondered what kind of gift she would have gotten them if she was still in the mortal world, but the thought made her heart ache too much, so she stopped thinking about it altogether.

Just then, Kili and Dwalin appeared back in the clearing, and in each Dwarf's hand there were at least two or three rabbits each; fairly small, but food nonetheless, though Alison's stomach turned slightly at the prospect of eating wild rabbit.

She stayed back as the Dwarves mumbled in appreciation of the meat and set about skinning the creatures, while Bifur and Óin fashioned a small spit over the fire using leftover twigs and branches from the pile Bofur and Glóin had collected earlier.

While the Dwarves worked away on preparing their dinner, Bilbo wandered over to where Alison was and sat down beside her, adjusting his sword on his waist so he could sit more comfortably.

"You've been quiet today," he remarked, picking at the layers of dirt that had culminated under his fingernails since they had left Rivendell, not having had any time for baths on the road.

Alison shot him a scornful look. "Well, we've kind of almost died at least ten times since yesterday," she pointed out drily. "I still haven't quite processed that we're really alive yet."

He chuckled quietly at her words, and Alison looked to him, furrowing her brows. The Hobbit looked relaxed, almost content by her side, gazing off into space with a slight smile on his impish face, his light brown eyes filled with a twinkle she hadn't really noticed before. Alison was quite taken aback by his attitude as she studied him; he had seemed as worried as she was on their trek through the Pass, and he had gone through a great deal more than she had in the past day or so, first with the riddles with Gollum in the goblin-tunnels, and then with his heroic moment when he had charged at the Orc about to behead Thorin. And despite all of that, he seemed more serene than ever.

"You seem different," she stated, watching as Bilbo glanced at her with his eyebrows raised slightly. "I mean, not by a lot, but since yesterday, your attitude just seems more…confident. More sure of yourself."

"Really?" he said. "I don't feel any different. More…grounded, maybe. But that's it. I don't feel any more confident than usual, but certainly more…capable, I believe."

Alison nodded thoughtfully. "You certainly proved that," she replied. "You saved Thorin last night, and I don't think anyone will forget that anytime soon." She nudged his shoulder slightly, grinning. "See what a little faith does for you? I told you that you were meant to come on this quest."

Bilbo shrugged modestly, choosing not to say anything as he watched the Dwarves for a moment, and Alison suddenly had a pretty good guess as to what had changed the Hobbit's attitude so quickly. Her eyes strayed to his waist-coat pocket, where she had seen him slip the ring into when he joined up with them after their escape from the goblin-tunnels, and she debated on asking him about it or not, wondering what his reaction would be. But before she could say anything, Bofur announced it was time for dinner, and she lost her chance.

Alison and Bilbo approached the fire and sat down in between Bombur and Ori, and Alison's mouth watered at the scent of cooked meat, her stomach nearly whining to be fed after going for so long without true sustenance. When she was handed her fair share of rabbit meat, she wolfed it down quickly, ignoring the scalding temperature as she practically inhaled it, all qualms about eating the wild creature disappearing almost as fast as she ate. Soon, she had finished what had been offered to her, and she sat back on her elbows, staring up at the tree limbs rustling above her as the rest of the Company finished cramming their own food into their mouths. Though it wasn't the usual fare they had grown used to on their journey, it was still food, and it was much better than going on an empty stomach.

After a few more minutes of staring up at the trees, Alison felt a nudge on her foot, and she brought her gaze back down, seeing Kili standing above her, outlined in gold from the fire behind him.

"Come on," he said, offering her a hand. "Time for our watch." She took his hand and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off her clothes as the other Dwarves began to disperse around the clearing, grumbling about having to sleep on the hard ground. Alison turned, about to say thank you to Kili for helping her up, but the prince was already moving off, settling himself at the base of a tree on the other side of the clearing.

Frowning, she went over to him, passing by Fili as he headed in the opposite direction. The blonde Dwarf flashed her a brief smile as he passed, but there was something forced about it that Alison didn't like. He didn't stop or say anything to her, either, which she was vaguely disappointed and irritated by. Seriously, what kind of guy, Dwarf or not, kissed a girl and then practically ignored her for the rest of the day? Apparently boys were confusing in any world, and she shook her head as she approached Kili and the tree, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

She slid down next to Kili with a sigh, her body as sore as ever and fatigue weighing down her limbs as she settled against the tree trunk, not looking forward to the long, restless hours of nothing that lay before her. Kili sat beside her, his legs stretched out in front of him and his bow in his lap, one of the few arrows he had left resting in his other hand as he stroked the yellow feathers of the tail on it in a bored fashion, though his eyes were as alert as ever as they scanned the surrounding land.

Alison drew Natrem into her lap, as well, hoping she would be able to stay awake long enough to complete her watch. She half-glanced at Kili from her spot next to him, seeing his expressionless face and eyes, no trace of the smile or mischievous glint she knew so well anywhere in his expression. Granted, they had had a rough couple of days, and he had almost lost Thorin, but Alison had a nagging suspicion that that was not the only thing on his mind as she chanced another sidelong glance at him.

"Should I move directly into your line of sight, or do you want me to pretend that I don't notice you looking at me every five seconds for the whole night?" he said suddenly, turning to face her, and Alison started, flushing slightly at his words. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not as she met his dark eyes, unfathomable in the night, and she tugged distractedly on a lock of hair, having been too lazy to put it back up during the day.

"You're being distant," she said, getting straight to the point. "Is this about what happened to Thorin?"

"That's one reason," he said, turning his gaze towards the dying embers of the fire. The snores and heavy breathing of the Company settled like a blanket over the clearing, and Alison waited for Kili to elaborate on the other reasons, but it never came.

"We're alive," she pointed out optimistically. "We're very nearly over the Misty Mountains, and all that lies between us and the Lonely Mountain is forestland. Things will get better."

"Considering our luck, I'm not sure that's entirely true," he said bitterly, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. Alison watched him, wondering if she should ask him about what else was bothering him, but she lost her courage as he went on.

"Every day seems to be getting worse," he said quietly. "I always wonder what's going to happen next before we reach the end, and how much more danger can possibly be thrown at us the farther along we go."

"I thought you enjoyed the prospect of a little action," she said, trying to alleviate the tension with a joke, but he just shot her a look, and she shut up, disliking how serious he was being.

"I'm not trying to sound weak, or cowardly," he said, fiddling with his arrow again. "I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to come, but…sometimes, it just hits me, how _real _all of this is, how much we actually stand to lose if things should end badly." He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his hands tightening on the arrow.

"But think of all the things you stand to gain, as well," Alison countered, placing a hand on top of his own. "You'll have your homeland back, your people will be restored to glory, and you can rebuild what was lost. You will lead the Dwarves of Erebor back to greatness, you and Fili and Thorin, together."

He looked down at her hand for a few seconds, not responding, before he sighed and clasped her hand with his own, moving it back to her lap before letting go. "It's probably best if you don't do that," he said softly, his eyes flicking to the sleeping form of Fili on the other side of the clearing.

Alison snorted, leaning back against the tree and crossing her arms. "Like he would care," she said, then cringed, realizing how much of a whiny teenage girl she must sound like.

He looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing," she muttered.

He studied her for a few minutes, apparently deep in thought, before speaking again. "He does like you, you know," he said eventually. "A lot more than he should. He's just trying to sort out his feelings at the moment. It's nothing personal." He suddenly smirked. "And he criticizes _me_ for being too rash with my emotions."

Alison felt her face burning; how pathetic it was, that she was getting relationship advice from a _Dwarf, _especially when the said Dwarf was the brother of the Dwarf she was falling for. Because _that _wasn't awkward at all.

"Oh," she said, because that was all she could think of to say. "Okay, then."

Kili continued to scrutinize her, going back to twiddling with his arrow. "Do you not feel the same way?" he asked, and she looked at him, wondering where this sudden interest in her relationship with Fili was coming from.

"I—yes, I mean…I don't know," she said in defeat, resting her head against the tree trunk. "I do, but I…don't think it will work out."

"Why not?" he asked, and she shook her head, not really feeling like getting into the future complications all of this might bring.

"We should get back to actually watching," she said instead, and he nodded, accepting her refusal to talk with good grace. As he leaned back though, she caught a flicker in his eyes that she had seen before, back in Rivendell, and the thought of it made her fingertips prickle as they fell back into a weighted silence.

The weary night wore on, and Alison struggled to stay awake, occasionally jerking herself out of a doze every now and then, gripping her sword hilt tightly until she realized that there they were safe, that there was no danger. The goblin-tunnels had made her overly paranoid, and she thought she felt eyes watching her from behind, making the hairs on the back of her neck tingle with the sensation.

Just to shake off the jittery feeling, she turned around and peered out from behind the tree trunk, her eyes scanning the area around their clearing.

To her left, behind a particularly wide tree some feet off from where she was sitting, she thought she saw an unusual shadow rippling across the ground, liquid-like and much darker than the natural shades of the night, faintly resembling a humanoid shape, though she couldn't be sure. But when she blinked, the shadow had gone, and as the moon rose higher in the sky, she wondered if she had just imagined it, trying to ignore the echoes of Galadriel's words that had popped into her head from seeing the shadow, but to no avail.

_"Blood calls to blood," _the she-Elf's voice whispered, the words coiling around her mind like a deadly poison running through her veins. _"A Shadow watches you, Maethor, a Shadow that will try to consume you."_

In the light of what was coming, Alison had nearly forgotten the Lady's warnings, but now they came rushing back, settling in her chest like a stone heart, reminding her of what lay ahead and the strength she would need to summon to meet those challenges. Everything up until then had been like a prologue, a very long beginning to their true quest, fraught with danger and darkness, and the thought made Alison feel distinctly anxious.

Their journey so far had been merely a game, one small move on the much larger board of their quest overall. But from here on out, Alison realized with sudden clarity, the real quest was about to begin.

She settled back against the tree, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched, but it was difficult. Every shadow, every rustle, now seemed to hold a threat in the darkness, and as the night carried on, Galadriel's words replayed over and over in her head, an eerie backdrop to the warning feeling that was building in her chest.

Something watched them, hidden in the dark for the time being, but Alison knew without a doubt that whatever it was would make itself known soon. Shadow or not, it waited for them. And it hungered.

* * *

_The Doors of Ered Luin were thrown open to the outside world, filling the halls of the Dwarven city with the pale golden light of dawn as guards in their splendid armor lined the walkway to the Gates beyond, also open, stoic and silent in the pre-dawn shadows the surrounding Blue Mountains cast on them._

_ Kili walked out of the halls, passing through the doors, Fili on one side of him, and his mother, Dís, on the other. The light spring breeze of mid-April, chillier than it should be due to the mountains around them, fluttered the flags on the standards behind them as the three walked forward, towards the gates before them._

_ "I feel like I'm in a funeral procession," Kili said into the silence, trying to dissolve some of the tension that lay thick in the air as they made their way to the gates. "Do we really have to do this?"_

_ "Hush, _inúdoy," _Dís said, as she walked along, as regal and unbendable as ever. "This is a proper send-off, a farewell to the Princes of Ered Luin before they depart for their journey. It is custom."_

_ "They didn't do it for Thorin," Kili pointed out, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the faceless helms of the guards bore into him. Fili stayed silent at his left shoulder, as cool and unruffled as their mother as he walked along, looking every bit the prince he was while Kili felt like he was just…there. _

_ "You know your uncle had to leave urgently to meet with the envoys of the seven kingdoms," she replied, keeping her dark-eyed gaze, so like Kili's, fixed ahead on the gates. "There was no time for formalities."_

_ Kili knew she was right, but he didn't like it. It seemed too final, this send-off. It was like he was bearing himself away in a tomb, and once he passed through the gates, he would never come back. _

_ They reached the gates, and Kili looked back at the city behind him as his brother and mother said their farewells, not wanting to eavesdrop on their words. The great iron doors were still wide from when they had passed through, and Kili saw the halls within, bathed gold from the sun and illuminating the rocky, cavernous city, with its blazing braziers and torches lining the walls, casting shadows on the statues of Dwarf likenesses and highlighting the rich tapestries adorning the interior. _

_He drank it all in, savoring every detail, for he knew it would be a long time before he saw this place again, his home, if he even made it back from the quest he was about to embark on. But he was ready. Erebor was his homeland, as well, and they would reclaim it, even if it took every last drop of blood in his body to see it through. His people deserved their home back._

_ Kili turned back around, seeing Fili move away from Dís to allow them the same courtesy of not intruding on their exchange as he had done to them, and Kili approached his mother, hefting his quiver into a more secure position on his back as he neared her._

_ Dís did not cry, or beg him to stay, despite knowing the fact that her brother and two sons were embarking on a quest they may never return from, which just made her a stronger woman than ever in Kili's eyes. She stood steadily, a few inches shorter than him, her black hair, streaked with one line of gray, pulled back from her handsome and proud face, her looks so similar to Kili's, though it still miffed him a bit that her beard was thicker and longer than his own._

_ "Goodbye, _amadinh," _Kili said, bowing his head and touching his forehead to hers in an affectionate gesture. "Do not worry about us too much; we will reclaim our home, and you will see me sooner than you expect."_

_ He pulled away as Dís touched his cheek tenderly, holding something in her other hand that he looked at in puzzlement as she opened her palm, revealing a flat, oval-shaped stone, a polished piece of deep, dark labradorite with runes etched into the surface. _

_ "What's this?" he asked, as she handed him the stone, and he took it, turning it over and over in his fingers, the stone cool and smooth to the touch. He studied the runes intently for a moment. _"Innikh dȇ," _he read out loud, and he looked up, meeting his mother's gaze as she watched him with a fierce, prideful sort of look in her eyes. "'Return to me.'"_

_ "That is your promise to me," she said softly, holding his gaze. "No matter if Erebor is reclaimed or not, if all the wealth of our people should be saved or forever kept by that dragon—no matter what happens, promise me that you will return to me. You and Fili both."_

_ Kili weighed the rune stone in his hand, knowing how hard of a promise that was to make, but knowing he had to try anyway, for his mother's sake. "I promise," he said. "To the best of my ability, I promise that Fili and I will return to you safely."_

_ She smiled gently then, and though her eyes looked lined with age, her face was as vibrant as ever, believing him when he promised to return. "Then go, _inúdoy," _she said. "You and Fili will accomplish what no other Dwarf has, and you will become great kings one day. Go, reclaim our homeland, and remember your promise to me."_

_ And so he and Fili went, beginning their journey to the Shire where Thorin had told them to meet on the last day of April. As the two brothers left behind their home, they stopped and looked one last time as the great gates began to swing closed behind them. Dís stood regally in the opening, raising her hand one last time in farewell as the gates shut, and Kili seemed to hear her voice echoing in his ears all the way down the mountain-side as him and Fili continued on: "Return to me."_

* * *

A sudden weight pressing into Kili's shoulder made him jerk awake, ripping him violently out of his dream as he gripped his bow instinctively, looking around wildly, until realizing that the thing that had touched him was Alison, who had fallen asleep with her head now lolling on his shoulder, her breaths steady and deep as she slept. With a twinge of guilt, he realized that he had also fallen asleep while they were supposed to be on watch, and he did a quick once-over of the clearing, counting heads to make sure everyone was there and checking that nothing had happened during his brief sleeping spell.

With everything appearing to be in order, he relaxed his grip on his bow, wondering how Alison could've possibly slept through his startled movement as she still pressed into his shoulder, but it didn't surprise him. They had been up for nearly two days straight, running and fighting for their lives, and they all needed the rest.

He looked down at the top of her head, her hair tickling his cheek as he shifted, seeing the un-bruised half of her face pressed into his cloak as her eyelids fluttered, her soft breathing whispering out of her half-open mouth as she slept, unaware of anything in the escape of her dream world.

Kili hesitated, wanting to move out from underneath her slack head, but not knowing how to do so without waking her up. He looked down at her again, not being able to bring himself to move quite yet at the peaceful, open expression on her face as she dreamed, the look holding him in place.

Though her face was blank of any expression, it still intrigued him as he watched her for a few more seconds, feeling a mix of emotions swirling around in him.

He flashed back to that morning, as they all stood on the Carrock, anxiously waiting for Thorin to revive, and he recalled in vivid detail as he had watched Fili leave his side, stalking over to where Alison was standing, baring her shoulder wound to Óin as the healer Dwarf patched her up. And he had watched, as Alison began to speak, and then Fili had grabbed her face and kissed her in front of everybody. More than anything, he had felt shock at the display, though he had felt his gut twist slightly as Alison had responded almost eagerly, anchoring Fili's mouth to hers for only a few long seconds, though it had seemed to stretch out for an eternity to Kili.

He didn't know why he was even that surprised; everything Fili had accused him of back in Rivendell could easily be reversed and applied back to his older brother. The blonde Dwarf practically gravitated to wherever Alison was, like a moth drawn to flame, and Kili found it amusing that after spending so long denying it, Fili had finally caved and opened himself to Alison. Now the only problem was Fili actually sticking to his decision concerning his feelings for her.

Ever since they were children, Fili had always placed duty and family above all else, including his own personal feelings. He had learned that best from Thorin, and now Kili wondered if those same principles would apply to Alison, or if Fili would actually listen to what he felt for once and put her before his obligations as a royal. Both options had their complications, and Kili knew that that was what Fili was now struggling with now that he couldn't reverse his actions.

He had been telling the truth to Alison earlier when she had remarked that Fili wouldn't care; the older Dwarf prince was keeping his distance, gauging what he really wanted, before getting himself into something that could have major implications on many things, such as an unbidden relationship between a Dwarf and a human, which went against practically every custom their race had. Fili was a prince, and he had an obligation to his people and an image to uphold, an image that would be tarnished if he were to declare himself to a human, a Hero of Middle-earth or no.

Kili didn't envy Fili's position at all, for there were a great number of things to take into consideration regarding all of this; and since Kili was more into doing rather than thinking, all of this would have driven him mad. But still, something tugged at his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to keep it away, the feeling persisted, until finally he just stopped trying all together and let his thoughts wash over him instead.

There was no point in pretending to deny it anymore; Kili knew he had feelings for Alison. He didn't know exactly when it had happened, when he began to suspect something more, but he knew without a doubt now that there was something much, much more than friendship brewing inside him whenever he thought of her. And he wasn't even sure _why _he felt the way he did yet. It was all so confusing, and he felt like he was running in circles trying to process it all.

He wanted her to be happy, and every word he had promised her all those nights ago, about returning her to her family safely, even if it took everything he had, he had meant more than anything else he had ever said in his life, except perhaps for the promise he had made to his mother. And if Alison wanted to be happy with Fili, he would not interfere in any way. She deserved to have a life where she was content with her choices, and he would keep his distance, and not breathe a word about his true feelings.

Alison shifted on his shoulder and turned her head, until it was propped up on her own shoulder instead of his, and she slept on, oblivious to anything around her as she sighed softly in her sleep, her grip slackening on her sword hilt.

After Kili watched her for a few more moments, he tore his gaze away from her face and removed the rune stone from a pocket inside of his cloak, turning the cool stone over in his fingers, the touch comforting him as he looked at it.

He didn't know where the dream about his departure from Ered Luin had come from, but it seemed to bring a sense of peace over him, and he remembered his mother's face and the prideful look in her eyes as she had watched her sons leave home for their journey with a certain fondness. His mother was a strong woman, and it filled him with courage that she had such an unwavering conviction that he and Fili and Thorin would make it back to her alive, especially in moments like tonight where the danger around them was so palpable, and the future seemed to be filled with nothing but darkness ahead.

Nothing was certain anymore, and all Kili knew was that he now had two promises to keep instead of one, first for Dís, and now for Alison. And as he sat in the darkness, examining the rune stone intently, he only hoped that he would live long enough to see both of his promises fulfilled.

* * *

It watched from the trees, as silent and eerie as a specter as its depthless eyes searched the darkness of the encroaching night, though it was much more than a ghostly figure. It was a part of the shadows itself, unfathomable and impenetrable, molded from the dark and born from the night.

Its eyes focused on a copse of trees lying ahead, and it sought the form of a small, slight figure slumped against a trunk, a girl, clutching a blade in her hands as she scanned her surroundings warily. It watched her hungrily, its form beginning to flicker out as its time wore thin. Its master would allow it only so long in this form, before it had to revert back to its _other _form, its true form.

But it did not mind. It had found what it had been searching for; the Ashburne girl, the mortal warrior the Valar believed could save their precious little world from utter destruction. If it could have sneered, it would have. How much faith the Valar had in their weak, puny Heroes to save the world. It was endearing, knowing how misguided and misplaced their hope was. It would make obliterating them so much easier.

Its master summoned it, drawing it back from its search, and it accepted its call with ease. Its task was completed. The Ashburne girl had been found.

With one last look at the mortal, it stepped back into the shadows of the night and was drawn in by the darkness until it rippled and vanished, leaving a trail of cold in its wake as the shadows twisted in on themselves, leaving no evidence that it was ever there. The night returned to normal, and the stars glittered like secrets in the sky, burning bright until one by one, they disappeared as the dawn gave light to a new day.

* * *

**Commentary for this chapter: asdjkklmdmmcjrfoi**

**But seriously, what.**

**So sorry about the abrupt ending there, but you know, all I'm saying is just wait for the next chapter, because a pretty major thing goes down... *totally not a spoiler alert***

**Anyway. I absolutely loved writing the scene about Kili receiving the rune stone from his mother! Ever since I saw the movie I was like "oh my gosh, I have to write about this, it's too perfect!" And of course, we had to have those deep internal thoughts of the characters and a little foreshadowing, which is always fun. (And not to mention the cliche "girl-falls-asleep-on-Kili's-shoulder" thing)**

**Buuuuut if you noticed the lack of Fili POV in this chapter, do not fear! As I said, the next chapter is pretty "whoa", so hopefully this filler can tide y'all over a bit until the next chapter, where we will definitely see some Fili POV! I think I'll actually post it earlier too, because leaving y'all with this just seems kind of...ehhh. **

**Well anyway, thank you for reading, and a massive thank-you to all of y'all's reviews last time! You gorgeous people, I love you. So please don't hesitate to review! I appreciate all of y'all so much.**

**Thanks again, lovelies:) Until next chapter... *cue dramatic music***


	18. 18: The Second Hero

**I know, I know, but I couldn't resist it! I had to post this chapter today or else I would've gone insane! But I tried guys, I really did. I thought I could hold out until next weekend but we all know how this ended.**

**But anyway. Here is Chapter 18, and I hope y'all like!**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: The Second Hero

A steady breeze had begun to blow during the night, and as the sky was lightening, announcing the approach of dawn, it was kicking into a mild wind, a cool gust of summer air under-lied with a crisper note of autumn.

Thorin had relieved Dwalin of his watch a little more than an hour ago, leaving the Dwarf king alone to watch over the Company and sort his thoughts out, propped against the trunk of a wide tree in the clearing as a few scarce birds tweeted in the branches, their songs sharp and piercing after the near-dead silence of the night preceding them.

The birds' song reminded Thorin of the thrush they had seen yesterday morning, flying east to the Lonely Mountain, and the thought left a palpable taste of something that could only be described as hope on his tongue. The sight of the Mountain had filled Thorin with a feeling he could put no words to, a mixture of relief, unrestrained joy, and sheer terror. Erebor was in their sights; yet despite the overwhelming sense of elation he had felt when he laid eyes on the mountain again after nearly two hundred years, an old fear had begun to gnaw on him once more, and it festered in his mind like an infected wound that refused to heal.

It had been sixty years since Smaug was last seen, and though Thorin had heard people whisper of it in the back of pubs, swapping tales of the dragon's supposed demise, he knew that the wretched snake that was Smaug would not have wasted away so easily. No, the dragon was merely slumbering, biding his time as he slept on the mounds of gold that had drawn his wrath upon Erebor in the first place. Smaug was still alive, and Thorin was beginning to dread his inevitable confrontation with the dragon. He knew him and the others would give their last breath if it meant defeating the dragon, but he also knew that thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, a mortal Hero, and a Wizard (if Gandalf even opted to stay with them until then) were no match for the might of a dragon. Thorin had seen Smaug decimate his own kingdom and raze the city of Dale to the ground with his own eyes, and he was beginning to doubt his sanity a bit as he thought about what lay ahead.

But there was no use in worrying about it now. They still had a little more than two months at the most to make it to the Mountain by Durin's Day, and there was still plenty of time to work out a plan around the problem of Smaug. He wouldn't concern himself with the matter right then. But as he sat against the tree, another worry lay heavily on his mind, and this perhaps was the greatest one of them all.

Besides the menace of Smaug, another challenge he faced upon entering the Mountain was the threat of the gold-sickness. He had tried to put Elrond's words out of his head in the successive weeks since their departure from Rivendell, and while it had worked temporarily, the reminder of what awaited him at Erebor had come flooding back as he had seen the Lonely Mountain silhouetted against the horizon. _"A strain of madness runs in that family. His grandfather lost his mind, his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?"_

The words had been difficult enough to swallow the first time, and they were no less intolerable now than they had been several weeks ago. Thorin knew he was not Thrór or Thráin, but he also knew that he shared the same blood as them, the same weakness that had clouded their minds and poisoned their souls. There was no guarantee that he was any stronger than them, and he was afraid of what would happen should he enter the Mountain and fall prey to the sickness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand drifted to his coat pocket as he sat, thinking, and he pulled out the key to the secret entrance, turning it in his hand so it caught the fading glimmers of starlight and the gathering sunlight of the dawn. He remembered his vow back in Rivendell, and as he held the comforting weight of the key, he let the words soothe down the frayed ends of his composure, allowing the truth of them to sedate the paralyzing fear he felt whenever he thought of the sickness and Erebor. After a few minutes of this, Thorin felt slightly better, and he replaced the key into his pocket just as there was a disturbance from across the clearing.

Thorin started, reaching for Orcrist, but he relaxed when he saw that it was just Gandalf, the Wizard pulling himself off the ground with the aid of his staff and sweeping back on his pointy grey hat with a flourish, all traces of sleep gone from the Wizard's tall and wiry frame as he pulled out his pipe and some Old Toby. Lighting it with a flame produced from his fingertip, Gandalf looked around the clearing and his bright blue eyes landed on Thorin. Seeing the Dwarf king watching him, the Wizard walked over to where Thorin sat, trailing smoke behind him as he went, which Thorin was vaguely envious of; his own pipe had been confiscated by the goblins a few nights ago, and he was still quite disgruntled over the loss.

Thorin stood as Gandalf approached, trying not to wince as his stiff muscles protested at his movements. Though the Wizard had healed most of the serious damage, parts of Thorin still ached from his fight with Azog, and he felt a flare of anger and shame at the reminder of how easily he had been beaten by the Orc, the same Orc that ought to have been dead the first time Thorin had faced him down. Yet Azog was still alive, and Thorin had no doubt that the Pale Orc was already hunting for him as he stood, and he felt a twinge of fierce anticipation run through him at the thought of having a rematch with the Defiler in the near future.

Gandalf stopped before Thorin, nodding his head in greeting, and Thorin inclined his own back, crossing his arms over his chest to cover the throbbing pain of the bruises on his upper torso as he faced the Wizard.

Gandalf's eyes took in the lightening sky above them, and he puffed a perfectly round smoke ring out of his mouth as he took in the rising morning, Thorin standing beside him. "A good day to travel," he observed, and Thorin looked up as well, seeing that the Wizard was right; not a cloud dotted the sky, and with the cooling temperatures, they wouldn't be too hot while traveling in the open under the sun.

"Indeed," Thorin replied. "I could do without the wind though," he added, as a particularly strong gust blew through the clearing, ruffling Thorin's hair and making the leaves on the tree branches rattle with the force of it.

Gandalf made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, and Thorin didn't know whether that was an agreement with his statement or not. They fell back into silence for a few moments, watching the sky grow steadily lighter, until Gandalf spoke once more.

"You've had a rough few days," the Wizard said, and Thorin stiffened uncomfortably at his words, not wanting to be reminded of how weak he had looked on the cliff-edge, unconscious and bloody, on the verge of being beheaded until Bilbo had surprised them all and saved Thorin's life. He had underestimated the Hobbit greatly, and Thorin was beginning to see why Gandalf had chosen him as their burglar, though he was still slightly chagrined that Bilbo had had to save him at all in the first place. "How are you holding up?"

Thorin lifted his sore shoulders in a non-committal shrug. "I've been better." He replied gruffly.

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully, his eyes scrutinizing Thorin with the penetrating way the Wizard possessed, as if he could read his mind and pick out the thoughts that troubled him most.

"I fear that this will not be the last time we see the Pale Orc," Gandalf mused. "It is troubling, how he revealed himself, and when he did. There is something I cannot quite understand about it."

"I thought I had seen that abomination for the last time after he slunk back into the hole he was spawned from," Thorin said angrily, clenching one of his hands into a fist. "And yet that scum still walks this earth, intent on cutting off my head much as he did to my grandfather. And you think _you_ don't understand what is going on?"

Thorin didn't mean for his voice to come out so harsh, but all the emotions that had been culminating within him over the last few days were starting to get to him. He took a deep breath to calm himself, absent-mindedly rubbing his left forearm where he used to wear his oaken shield. Upon waking up the previous dawn, he had discovered that it had been lost on the burning cliff-side when the Eagles had rescued them, and its loss had struck a crippling blow to him. He had had that shield for nearly two centuries, had hewn it himself from the branch he had used to fend off Azog in the battle at the Moria Gates, and he had relied on it many a time. It was a part of his identity, a physical symbol of who he was, and where he had gotten his name from. But now it was gone, and he felt as if a piece of him was now missing.

Gandalf remained silent, and Thorin sighed, suddenly feeling overburdened with the weight of what they were doing, the enormity of their task looming above him like a mountain he could not see the top of.

"What are we doing, Gandalf?" he said, voicing aloud the thoughts that had been plaguing him for most of their journey. "Sometimes I believe that what we are doing is right, that we will manage to re-enter the Mountain and take back our homeland, but…there are times where I feel like our quest is deemed as impossible, and Smaug will continue to lie within Erebor until he rots out of his skin. I do not know how this will end for us."

"If there is one thing I know about you, Thorin Oakenshield, it is that you are stubborn and determined until the end," Gandalf said. His voice was solemn, but there was a twinkle in his eyes as he went on. "You will not be deterred from your path, and it is this endurance that will lend you the strength you need to complete this quest. And no one knows what the exact outcome of the future may be; it is constantly in motion, ever-changing, and that is why we are given the freedom to choose our own fate. This quest is no different; there can be many varying outcomes, but I believe you have the wits to choose the path for greatness."

Thorin did not respond, too wrapped up in his own mind to think of anything to say. Eventually, though, he stumbled on another thought, and he looked to Gandalf again, who blew out one last stream of smoke before tucking his pipe back into his cloak.

"Even if we do manage to make it to the Mountain by Durin's Day and enter the door, there is still the problem of the Arkenstone," he said, and Gandalf looked down his long nose at the Dwarf king, who began to pace agitatedly in one small spot of the clearing, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't disturb the sleeping Company. "I don't know what Smaug will have done with it in the years he has inhabited Erebor, and I fear that it is lost somewhere that will never be found within the halls."

"That is why we have Bilbo, my dear fellow," the Wizard replied, smiling slightly. "I believe it was stated very explicitly in the contract that the burglar would be the one to retrieve the King's Jewel, and I have the utmost confidence in Bilbo that he can see the task done."

Thorin nodded distractedly, still pacing, too absorbed in his thoughts to reply immediately to the Wizard. The prospect of the end of the quest still bothered him, but he figured it was time to stop dwelling on it too much and carry on with the task they were appointed. Firstly, they still had to make their way over the last of the Misty Mountains' borders, and there was still the problem of them trying to find a way to obtain supplies so they could actually survive their trek to the Mountain. Everything else—Smaug, the Arkenstone—could wait until later.

"I don't suppose you have any friends or allies nearby that owe you a favor and could lend us supplies, do you?" he asked Gandalf half-heartedly, doubting that there was such a thing this far into the Wild; but to his surprise, Gandalf nodded thoughtfully, sweeping his gaze over the rosy glow of the landscape.

"There could be someone who may be willing to help us," he said, and Thorin noted how he didn't say whether this 'someone' was a friend or not. "But his home is not close; it is at least three weeks' travel on foot from here, two and a half perhaps, depending on how fast our pace is. And there is no guarantee he will help."

"We'll take our chances," Thorin said, trying to keep the suspicion in his voice at a low level; he didn't want a repeat of what had happened in the Trollshaws, when Gandalf had stormed off and left them alone with the trolls because Thorin had been too stubborn to listen to him. These weren't the borders of the Shire; they were on the edge of even more dangerous territory than the Wild borders of the western side of the Mountains, and Gandalf knew these paths better than Thorin did, so it was a good idea to keep the Wizard around without insulting him or raising his ire.

There was a rustle of movement from behind them, and the Dwarf king and the Wizard turned, seeing Bofur beginning to stir from his splayed out sleeping position on the ground, yawning and sitting up, re-adjusting his hat so it stayed in place on his head.

"I take that as our cue to get moving," Thorin said, and Gandalf chuckled lightly as they entered more fully into the clearing, beginning to wake the others so they could get started on their journey again.

After sharing a scanty breakfast of dried, leftover rabbit meat and a few berries each that Óin had determined safe to eat, the Company began to scatter the remains of their fire from last night, and Thorin sent a few Dwarves on patrol to look for a water source nearby. Thorin's mouth was already as dry as sand, and he didn't want to start losing his Company members to the effects of dehydration before they found whatever this place was that Gandalf had mentioned could help them.

As the sun came close to breaking over the jagged peaks of the Misty Mountains behind them, Nori came back from scouting and reported that they had found a stream close by, and the rest of the Company followed him out of the clearing and across a short stretch of brittle grass, until the sound of trickling water reached Thorin's ears and he indeed saw a slow-moving stream a little ways ahead of them.

Most of the Dwarves were already by the stream when Thorin came up, drinking their fair share of water and splashing their faces, rubbing off the culminated layers of dirt and sweat and, in some cases, blood, rinsing their hands as well in the sluggish current.

After Thorin drank enough water to the point where he thought he could hear it sloshing around in his stomach, he cupped some water in his hands and splashed his own face, the crisp coldness of it awakening his senses more fully and making him more alert, wiping away the last strands of sleep that still clung to him.

He stood up, shaking some of the excess droplets from his hands, and he watched in amusement as Bofur took off his boots and socks and rolled up his trouser legs, wading out into the middle of the stream until the water reached his knees, where he sighed exaggeratedly and closed his eyes in bliss.

"This is the life, lads," he said to the others on the bank. "I don't think my feet have felt this wonderful since last we bathed in Rivendell."

Thorin grinned at the Dwarf's words, shaking his head, as Alison's voice called from farther down the stream. "Hey, do you mind?" she said. "People _drink _from this, you know. I don't want to taste your nasty feet in my water."

She sat cross-legged on the bank by the water, smiling cheekily at Bofur as he sloshed over to her. "Well, I guess there's only one thing to say to that," he replied mischievously, and she raised her eyebrows.

"And that would be?"

"Drink up!" he crowed, and with that he took his hands and splashed her with the water, dousing her from her place on the bank as she shrieked and leaped to her feet, while the rest of the Company roared with laughter.

"You are _so _dead," Alison said menacingly, yanking off her boots and filthy socks as her loose hair dripped into her face. Bofur laughed as she waded into the water, and soon, Thorin was watching a water battle of epic proportions take place as the rest of the Company joined in, splashing and yelling as water flew everywhere, and Thorin thought that at least half of the stream's water content was being displaced as the Dwarves and Alison sloshed around, fighting a battle to the death with nothing but water.

Thorin stepped back to avoid getting drenched, noticing how Gandalf and Bilbo remained on the back with him, both chuckling and shaking their heads at the scene before them. Thorin felt a smile tug on his own face as the fight died down, the Company clambering back to shore and re-donning their shoes as they laughed and bantered with each other still, arguing on who the real winner was; after so many weeks of worrying and living in constant fear of attack or other dangers, it was good to see them have a moment of light-hearted peace, where they could just forget about their hardships for a moment and have a bit of fun. Mahal knew they needed a little laughter nowadays.

Once everyone was back in their shoes and had calmed down a bit, Thorin walked over to the group with Gandalf and Bilbo behind him. "Come on," he said as he neared, and they all looked to him expectantly. "We need to get a move on. We have a long day ahead of us, and I want to reach those last peaks soon so we can get over them as quickly as possible."

The Company all nodded, and they began to trek across the stunted plains of the mountain basin, making for the last set of peaks looming before them. After they had crossed those, they would be entering into the forestland of Mirkwood shortly after, what had once been known as the Greenwood, and Thorin felt a warning settle in his heart at the thought. He had heard the dark rumors of the now-dreaded forest, and he was not looking forward to seeing if those tales proved to be true or not. But they had no choice. Just like they had had to cross the Misty Mountains, they had to pass through Mirkwood if they wanted any chance of getting to the Lonely Mountain by Durin's Day, no matter how dangerous the forest was or not.

The Company all still laughed and joked around as they made their way across the plains, the sun climbing higher and higher into the sky and casting longer shadows upon the ground, and Thorin let them have their moment of fun. There was seldom opportunity for light-hearted moments like these on the road, and Thorin wanted them to enjoy their last bit of fun before they embarked on the next stage of their journey, and all of their worries and uncertainty came back. Because from here on out, the dark days were upon them, and soon there would be no cause for humor as their quest led them down an even more sinister path than they had already faced.

Thorin stifled a sigh as they trekked along, already not looking forward to the future challenges they were bound to face soon. Their journey was barely halfway over, and as they continued on into the wilderness, he couldn't help but think that this was just the beginning to another long and perilous chapter in the story of their quest, and he wondered what more they could possibly face before they reached their journey's end. Which, of course, in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, was always a really bad thought to have.

* * *

After nearly a week of travel, the bordering peaks of the Misty Mountains were on them, and if Fili had to guess, he would say that they were roughly two days away from entering the peaks, which he took with a small sense of comfort. As Thorin had said, the quicker they were over the borders of the Misty Mountains, the quicker they could continue on to the Lonely Mountain. And as August loomed ever closer, their sense of urgency was increasing; they had a little more than two months to travel through Mirkwood and reach the Mountain by Durin's Day, and though they all kept it to themselves, Fili knew that everyone was beginning to worry about making the deadline on time, no matter how close the Mountain looked on the horizon.

They trekked on for the whole day, from dawn until dusk, the wind steady as it breezed across the plains, blowing from the northeast where the Lonely Mountain lay and whipping Fili's hair braids away from his face as he walked, enjoying the nice feel of the late summer air on his travel-weathered face. Around midday, however, the wind shifted directions, now coming up from the south, behind them, where the Misty Mountains were, and bringing with it the scent of rain.

Fili, who was walking at the rear, looked up to the sky, but there was no sign of any clouds yet, which meant that the rain was still some way off. He figured it would probably reach them two dawns from now, just before they crossed into the last stretch of peaks and began to climb.

_Because that should be pleasant, _he thought, bringing his gaze back down to earth. Almost unconsciously, his eyes strayed to the form of Alison walking a few places in front of him, in between Ori and Kili, the latter of who was telling them a story that involved much hand gestures and laughter from the other two.

Watching them, Fili felt a flicker of envy, particularly when Alison let out a bout of laughter at something Kili said, and even though her back was turned towards him, he could still imagine the look on her face she got whenever she found something amusing; the way her eyes would sparkle and crinkle at the edges, and the way her lips would curve into a half-smile, slightly open so the sound of her laughter would spill forth.

Hearing her laugh sent a tiny stab through him, and, almost against his will, he recalled their kiss on top of the Carrock. He still didn't know what had made him do it. It was like a sudden impulse had overcome him; just seeing her, injured but alive, had made a sort of fierceness jolt through his body, and he had realized with a wave of terror that he could have _lost _her. If he hadn't reached her in time, if that Orc had been a second quicker… He still shuddered just thinking about it. But seeing her life on the line like that had awakened something inside of him, something that he had been denying for too long, and after the threat of danger had passed, he had succumbed to the feeling burning in his chest, and he had just…kissed her.

Of course, looking back on it, what he had done was completely rash and unplanned, and he knew he probably should've thought things through a bit more before deciding to sate the beast roaring in his chest for her. But where Alison was concerned, all sense of logic and reason tended to leave him, which he realized now was a trait he could not afford to have.

A part of him felt guilty for what he had done; they both knew that what they felt for each other was something that could never be, and he felt like he had given her hope where there shouldn't have been any. After all, he was a Dwarf prince, and she was a human, who would most likely be sent back to her world when all of this was said and done. And even if she did stay, what would they do? Dwarf customs were exclusive to only their race, and he knew better than anyone that a relationship between a Dwarf and a human could never form. Alison would never be accepted, and even though he was a prince, there was only so much he could do.

The guilt that he felt after kissing her had been plaguing him all week, and he had tried to distance himself as best as he could from her so he would allow himself time to think things through without being distracted by her. He knew he was irritating her by his avoidance, but so far it was the only way he could learn how to cope with the struggle going on inside him. Half of him was defiant; why couldn't he have feelings for her? Just because she was a human meant nothing; even if she was of his race, she would still possess all of the qualities he liked about her; her bravery, her sarcasm, her honesty, her strength and intelligence. He had even come to accept her flaws; the way that she was reckless and somewhat impulsive, her occasional weakness and her excessive need to worry, and the mouth that could get her into trouble if she didn't restrain some of her comments. But everything about her was what made her _her, _and she was the person Fili had taken a liking for. But the other half of him knew that no matter what he wanted, or what she wanted, it would never work. And as much as it pained him, he knew that he had to end this before things got too serious and there was no going back.

As he brooded, the sun sank lower in the sky, and by the time dusk rolled around, they had reached a patch of woodland at the base of the first peaks, and as they walked through the dark, close-growing trees, Fili thought that the forest seemed endless, even though the bordering peaks were literally right behind it. But somehow, just the shadows of the peaks seemed to make it look a lot larger than it actually was, and Thorin led them only a few meters into the tree-line before stopping.

"We'll make camp here," he announced. "The stream is close by if we need any water and these branches will make for a suitable fire tonight. Kili, you're in charge of hunting for the night, and Óin, you can decide on what vegetation to gather. We will need all the food we can get to keep up our strength."

The Company all nodded in agreement at his words as Balin said, "You know, the stream seems to be much deeper here than it has been in the past. I think that this will be a good opportunity for us to, ah…_freshen up _a bit." He wrinkled his large nose as he said it, and Fili couldn't agree more. A little dirt or sweat had never bothered him, but going on a month without a bath was becoming a bit uncomfortable, and he wasn't the only one who was feeling the same way.

Thorin nodded at the older Dwarf's words. "We'll take an hour to bathe," he decided. "Night will fall soon, and we still have to eat and organize tonight's watches—" He stopped abruptly, for the Company was already taking off towards the stream, stripping off their weapons and coats as they went, whooping and hollering as they faded into the dusky shadows.

Fili was left alone in the clearing with Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin, Kili, and Alison, and he just shrugged as Thorin looked to him questioningly.

"Great," Kili said sarcastically from his place near Alison's shoulder. "Now they've probably scared off every single piece of prey within a hundred-meter radius."

Alison snickered as the younger prince hefted his bow. "I'll bathe early in the morning," he said to Thorin as he began to stride into the trees. "I need to try and scrounge up at least some food for tonight."

Thorin nodded as Kili disappeared into the trees, and shortly after Bilbo left as well, heading towards the direction of the stream, though Fili noticed how he went more upstream rather than towards where the Dwarves had run off to. With a cautious look into the trees where the Dwarves could be heard bathing, Alison headed in the opposite direction of them and Bilbo, and soon she was swallowed by the trees. When she had gone, Thorin jerked his head for Fili to follow him and they walked to where the Dwarves were in the stream.

Fili stared at the spot where Alison had been standing for a few seconds before following his uncle into the tree-line, and he realized with a prickle of embarrassment that Thorin had been watching him stare after Alison as he met his hard blue gaze through the gloom.

They walked in silence for a few moments until Thorin broke the quiet between them. "Is there something wrong? You've been…thoughtful lately."

Fili kept his eyes forward as he answered, not trusting himself to look Thorin in the eyes as he said, "It's nothing. I've just been trying to process all that has happened so far."

He saw Thorin nod slowly out of the corner of his eye, and he knew without even fully looking that the king wasn't entirely convinced with his words. Thorin looked like he was about to press him further, but he seemed to change his mind, instead sighing and saying, "You would come to me if something was troubling you, wouldn't you?"

Fili met his uncle's gaze again, wondering if he should tell him about Alison. But no; he hadn't approved of his attachment to her in the first place, and besides, he was going to make sure nothing happened between them again for both their sakes. There was no use dragging Thorin into it. So instead he only replied with, "Of course, Uncle."

And then their conversation ended as they approached the stream, and Fili bathed quickly in the crisp water, scrubbing off layers of dirt and grime before clambering back onto the bank and tugging on his trousers and tunic, leaving his boots, coat, and armor off for the time being.

Shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, Fili began to wander aimlessly downstream, listening as the Company's shouts of laughter faded somewhat into the distance as he walked slowly along the bank, staring into the water broodingly. He wasn't really thinking of anything particular, just letting his thoughts wander free, but when there was a sudden movement ahead of him, he looked up quickly and froze, feeling his cheeks flame instantly.

Alison was facing away from him a few yards ahead of him on the bank, and he had looked up just as she was re-donning her black undershirt. Knowing how incredibly intrusive and rude he was being, but not being able to look away, he watched in a sort of detached mortification as the black material stretched over the bare skin of her back, sliding down over her narrow hips until she was covered again. He swallowed uncomfortably, the image of her waist burning into his mind; despite how extremely awkward his situation was, he was also curious, and a little bit fascinated.

He had seen Elf-women and Dwarf-women before, but he had rarely seen a human woman up close, and he was a bit intrigued. Where Elves were tall and graceful and slender, and Dwarves stout, rotund, and curvy, Fili felt as if Alison fell into a category sort of in between those two; she was short and slim, with a hint of curves that he had only just noticed then, but she was more on the lean side, and toned from her weeks of training and traveling on their journey. The nature of her looks had never really concerned Fili before, but now he found himself interested by them, even with the way she moved; and while she certainly wasn't a Dwarf, he still found her nice-looking, which was something he would never have imagined himself thinking in a hundred years.

Figuring he had been standing creepily for long enough, he cleared his throat awkwardly as she bent down to pick up her boots, but at the sound of his voice she spun around quickly with a small jump.

"Oh my God, _Fili," _she said, her cheeks turning bright red in the light of the setting sun, and Fili felt his own face flush even more. "What the hell were you _doing_? How long were you standing there?"

"Don't worry, I didn't see anything," he said hastily, now finding it hard to meet her eyes. "I came up only a few seconds ago."

"Oh," she said, relaxing slightly, though her face was still red. "Uh…right, then."

There was a moment of tense silence between them, until Alison brushed a damp strand of loose brown hair from her face and fixed her eyes on him, a pale icy green in the falling twilight. "So, what made you decide to walk down here? Shouldn't you be off with the others?"

Her voice was normal enough as she said it, but Fili was beginning to know her well enough to hear the underlying note of irritation in her would-be casual tone. Her icy eyes bore into him, and he guessed that she had not missed the fact of his avoidance of her as she cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to answer.

"I just…needed to think," he said, forcing himself to hold her gaze.

Her brow rose higher. "About?"

Fili took a deep breath, suddenly feeling his throat go dry. He had rehearsed what he was going to say to her all week, but now that she was here, standing in front of him, he found it hard, when all he wanted to do was just walk forward and brush his fingers across her skin, wanting to marvel at the softness of it, so smooth compared to his own, and press his lips against hers once more. But he kept himself from doing so, sucking in a deep breath and forcing those kinds of thoughts away. He had to be honest with her. She deserved the truth.

"About us," he said eventually, gauging her expression. There was no hint of surprise in her angular features, and he guessed that she had seen something like this coming. He added that to the growing list of things he liked about her; how he often underestimated her ability to really _see _people, and pick up on their emotions and mold herself to fit with them, relating to their thoughts and expressions with a certain sort of ease.

Fili paused, unsure of what exactly to say. This was all so new to him, and he had no idea where to begin. Fortunately, Alison seemed to know what he was going to say, and she helped him along.

"You don't have to say anything," she said, dropping his gaze and fiddling with a strand of her long hair. "I know what you've been going through, and I have something to say about it, too." She lifted her head, meeting his eyes again. "I know that this can never work, this…whatever, that's going on between us. You have a duty to this world, and I have a duty to mine. And I'll probably have to leave once this quest is finished, so…I think it's best if we just accept that things will never work out, to spare any feeling that comes in the future when we have to take our own separate paths. So…yeah." She bit her lip, awaiting his reaction.

"I agree," he said, after a slight pause. "There would be many implications for us if we were to start…something, and I don't want you to get involved in any of that. So, you're right. We should remain friends, nothing more."

She nodded, and there was another long pause in which they stared at each other for several stretched out moments, before Alison dropped her gaze first and bent to pick up her boots and tattered hunting jacket off the ground. Fili watched her with a heavy feeling in his chest, as if someone had tied a large stone to his heart and was weighing it down.

"We should get back to the campsite," she said, starting past him up the bank, but she stopped, confused, when he grabbed her wrist.

He met her eyes in the twilight, seeing his reflection portrayed back to him as he searched the pale green depths, knowing that what they were doing was the right thing to do, but disliking it all the same. "I do have feelings for you, you know," he said quietly, voicing aloud something he had been wishing to say for days now. The weight on his heart lifted a bit as the words came out, taking off some of the heaviness that he had been carrying around inside for all this time. "Don't think that I don't care about you. I do, Alison."

She smiled gently, her eyes lightening slightly at his words. "I do, too," she said softly. "And if we were anywhere but here, know that I would choose you all the same."

And with that, she pulled her wrist lightly out of his loose grasp, brushing her fingertips against his before making her way back to the camp, and leaving Fili alone in the twilight shadows as the stars winked into existence above him.

* * *

Alison had never hated rain so much in her life. In Texas, they were usually under drought most of the time, and she had cherished the precipitation whenever it rarely came. But now that she had been trekking across all of Middle-earth for the past three months, where she had experienced more rain than she ever had in her lifetime in only a few weeks, she was just about ready to start sacrificing to some sun gods for the sake of just being _dry _and _warm _for once.

It had been two days since her conversation with Fili, and she was kind of ticked that after spending so much time trying to bathe herself in the stream without feeling like hundreds of eyes were on her, it just now decided to rain, making her bath completely unnecessary. Oh, the irony.

But despite the discomfort and chill the rain brought, Alison was actually in quite a positive mood. After their serious talk by the stream, her and Fili had returned to somewhat normal, talking and teasing as they usually did, though now with something unspoken lying between them, a heavy curtain of truth that they could not hide behind any longer. Even though they had agreed not to start anything between them, Alison still felt some happiness at the reminder that he had told her he had feelings for her, and the thought seemed to buoy her up, though she was more glad about the fact that he was no longer avoiding her more than anything.

They were approaching the last peaks of the Misty Mountains steadily, and Alison figured today would finally be the day they reached them as Thorin pushed them on, further through the trees at the base of the peaks. As they wound their way through the compacted woods, Alison began to notice huge, moss-covered boulders interspersing among the greenery, and she knew they had to be close now.

It was nearing another evening when Alison found herself straggling along beside Thorin at the head of the group, using Maodus to hack away the bushes in her path; while the Dwarves were burly enough to walk through the undergrowth without getting snagged, Alison was much smaller than them, and she had to clear away as much brush as she could to avoid getting her braid or clothes tangled in the scratchy branches, much to her annoyance. Thorin looked at her from his place beside her, his expression half-amused, half-stony as he watched her blunder along through the foliage, swinging her sword wildly.

"I'm beginning to wonder whether these trees have caused you a personal offense," he said, watching her as she hacked at a particularly stubborn branch.

Alison shot him a look. "Oh, no," she replied sarcastically. "I just hold a serious grudge against all inanimate objects that are in my way."

One corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk at her joke, which Alison found herself strangely excited about. Usually when she cracked a joke around the Dwarf king he just gave her an unamused look and walked away, but she felt as if she were finally making progress with him now if he wasn't moving away from her.

They fell into silence, and Alison was suddenly reminded of one morning last week, when she had woken up after their first night down from the Carrock and had heard Thorin and Gandalf's voices talking from the edge of the clearing, having a discussion about Bilbo and the Arkenstone. Though their conversation had been brief, the memory had stuck with her, because she had recognized the name from the book. Of course, like everything else though, she had forgotten what exactly the Arkenstone was, but she remembered that it seemed to play an important role in the story, and was now curious to re-learn about it.

"So…" she said nonchalantly, keeping her voice low so the others behind them wouldn't hear her. Thorin looked to her warily at her sudden change of tone. "What's this whole deal with the Arkenstone?"

Thorin's expression didn't change, but his eyes tightened slightly at her question. "How do you know of the Arkenstone?"

She shrugged, unperturbed by his reaction. "I heard you and Gandalf talking about it last week. So what is it?"

"Why do you ask?" he replied, his brows lowering over his eyes suspiciously.

"Curiosity?" she offered, knowing she couldn't reveal her real reason for wanting to know about it; to help her fill in the gaps of the story, so she knew what was coming and could prepare them for it as best as she could, and maybe find a solution to the problem they would be faced with.

Thorin didn't respond for a moment, but eventually he spoke, seeming to choose his words carefully before speaking. "The Arkenstone is the King's Jewel," he said reluctantly. "The heart of the Lonely Mountain that was seen as a right to rule by my grandfather, Thrór. It was lost within the halls of the kingdom when Erebor fell, and now it lies unprotected there, either lost among the vast wealth or kept secret by Smaug."

Alison nodded interestedly, the stone still not ringing any bells in her head. "Does it, you know, do anything? Besides symbol the right to rule for the king?"

He hesitated, seeming to struggle with himself before continuing, as if he shouldn't be telling her this. "The Arkenstone is not only a sign of rule. There is an oath upon it, an oath that the seven Dwarf kingdoms took when it was first discovered. The oath was that it would be the uniting symbol of the Dwarves, and whoever wielded the King's Jewel could call upon the aid of the seven kingdoms, and they would be sworn to uphold their vow and come to the aid of the one who wields it should there be cause to."

"That's why you need Bilbo," Alison realized suddenly, comprehension dawning on her. "You need him to retrieve the Arkenstone. You plan to unite the seven Dwarf armies of the kingdoms and march on Erebor to reclaim it and kill the dragon. We're just the prelude to all of this; our quest isn't even really the big picture yet."

Alison was suddenly confused; she knew the Arkenstone was a part of the book, but the whole purpose behind it now seemed like something much, much larger. But she had to admit; Thorin's plan was pretty smart, and was definitely subtle so far.

Thorin nodded grudgingly at her words. "Yes, that is our purpose," he said. "Did you really believe thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit could take on a dragon by ourselves?" he chuckled humorlessly. "Not even the warrior skills you possess would be much help against the might of Smaug, Miss Ashburne."

Alison shook her head, wondering how she did not see this bombshell coming; had she really forgotten the book that much in the time she had been here? But she chose not to go any further with that topic, instead saying, "Alison."

Thorin looked at her weirdly. "What?"

"It's 'Alison', not 'Miss Ashburne,'" she said. "I think we've known each other long enough now to stop using such formalities."

"But it's your name, isn't it?" he said, confused.

"Yeah, but it's my _title," _she replied. "My _name _is Alison. I call you by Thorin, not 'O Blessed King under the Mountain' or whatever; see how formal that is? It's weird, especially since we've known each other way more than only a few days now."

"I guess you're right…Alison," he said hesitantly, as if testing the word on his tongue, and she smiled.

"See? Much better!"

He shook his head at her words, smiling slightly, but Alison didn't mind. Finally, she had managed to get through to Thorin! She felt like marking this day down in history and making it a national holiday or something: 'The Day Thorin Oakenshield Got the Stick Out of His Arse' day, or something along the lines of that.

They stayed in amiable silence for the rest of the day as the rain pattered on, and when the light was close to failing, Alison noticed that the trees were beginning to space out again, allowing them small glimpses of the peaks that were practically on top of them through the trunks.

"We'll stop here for the night," Thorin called once they reached a somewhat sheltered clearing. "Glóin, try to find some dry twigs for a fire—" Thorin cut off abruptly, and suddenly he shouted something in Khuzdûl that made Alison nearly jump out of her skin.

He drew Orcrist quickly, staring ahead with a fierce scowl she recognized as his battle face, but she was confused as the rest of the Company drew their weapons behind them; Orcrist wasn't glowing, so it couldn't be Orcs, so what was…

Alison followed their gazes and started, raising Maodus instinctively as her eyes took in the scene before her. Through the rain, on the other side of the clearing, stood a figure, perched atop a medium-sized boulder, and Alison instantly recognized the profile of a man.

This by far was the most bizarre thing she had seen so far in Middle-earth; she had encountered Wizards, Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, Goblins, Orcs, Wargs, practically any magical creature she could think of. But she suddenly realized with an odd twist in her gut that she had never, not once, laid eyes on another human like her upon her arrival in Middle-earth, and that freaked her out more than anything as she took in the distinctly human form before her.

He was tall, with broad shoulders but a lean torso, and he was shrouded in a black sort of cloak, which looked like a cross between a coat and a modern jacket that hung down to his knees and completely covered his arms, with the hood drawn low over the face, giving the appearance of a faceless shadow watching them. Everything Alison could see about the man was black, except for the pale skin of the hands she saw through the holes of his fingerless gloves; but besides that light flash of skin, everything else about him was dark, from his coat, gloves, pants, boots, and even the vast array of weapons on his belt she could make out from underneath the opening of his coat. A quiver of black-feathered arrows was strapped to his back, a black and silver-hilted sword at his waist, and he held a black wooden bow loosely in his hands in front of him, though it wasn't raised or loaded with an arrow. It just simply hung there, in his hands, as the hood tilted slightly, as if the face underneath was regarding them interestedly.

There was a tense moment of silence, where there was only the sound of the drumming rain on the leaves, until Alison heard a rustle from behind and Gandalf appeared in front of her and Thorin, Glamdring unsheathed and his staff raised threateningly.

"Who are you?" the Wizard demanded. "Declare yourself!"

The man stood motionless, and Alison found herself holding her breath anxiously as the man answered.

"And what concern of it is a Wizard, a Hobbit, thirteen Dwarves, and a woman's?" the man countered, and Alison felt a tingle down her spine. The voice certainly belonged to a man, though it was less deep than she expected, and it sounded vaguely British, underlined with something…older, almost ancient, his tone cold and arrogant.

Gandalf took a step forward. "It is my concern whether you want it to be or not," the Wizard said clearly. "These borders from the Carrock to Mirkwood are under the protection of a guardian already, and I can tell you now, son of Man, that he does not take kindly to poachers."

"I know this, Istari," the man said, almost in a bored tone, but his stiff posture showed him otherwise. "But I have been given permission to traverse these lands, while you have not. What are you doing in this territory?"

"Our business is our own," Gandalf replied, ejecting a note of steel into his voice. "You would be wise to move on, archer, and go about your own way. We have no need for trouble."

In a movement faster than Alison could follow, there was a sudden twang of a bow-string, and she felt something whizz past her ear, so close she could feel the air from it going past, and in the next second there was a startled yelp from behind her, and she spun around, seeing an arrow embedded into a tree trunk only a few inches away from Bilbo's white face. As Alison looked back to the man with wide eyes, she had the feeling that he could've made that shot go straight into the Hobbit's eye if he wanted, which terrified her and enthralled her in equal measure; how had he _moved _like that?

"I take orders from no one, Istari," the man said coldly, his bow-string still vibrating slightly from his shot. "Not even from great Wizards such as yourself."

Gandalf took another step forward, opening his mouth menacingly to respond, but in a split second another arrow was fitted to the bow-string, aiming at Bilbo again.

"Stay where you are," he ordered. "Or this next shot goes through your little companion's throat."

Alison felt her anger rise at the man's threat; _nobody _threatened Bilbo like that unless they wanted to be impaled on the end of her swords, and she was more than happy to demonstrate on this arrogant bastard.

She took an angry step forward, but Thorin pulled her back roughly. "Alison, no!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down so the man wouldn't hear, but it didn't work.

"Alison?" the man repeated, his cold voice coloring with shock. "Alison Ashburne?" He lowered his bow slightly, and the hood turned to face Alison, still hidden in shadow. "You are Alison Ashburne?"

"Yeah, I am," she said defiantly, knowing that her attitude probably wasn't going to help their case much, but she couldn't force it down. "Why do you want to know?"

The man chuckled, and to her intense surprise, he replaced his arrow back into his quiver and lowered his bow again. "Interesting," he mused. "It was rumored that another Ashburne warrior had been summoned to Middle-earth, but, truly, this is too coincidental."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, breaking free from Thorin's grip and stepping up to Gandalf's side. "Who are you?"

The man didn't respond, only chuckled again, raising his pale hands and pushing back his hood. Alison felt a prickle of shock go through her at the man's appearance, because he didn't even look like a _man _at all.

He had to be only a few years older than her, maybe in his early twenties, and she felt a rush of familiarity at his face. She felt like she should _know _who this was, but it was a stubborn memory, flitting just out of her reach, and she wondered if she actually did recognize him at all, for she knew for certain she had never seen him before in her life, yet he was so _familiar_.

Like his hands, his skin was pale, and even from where she stood it looked smoother than anything, except for the puckered scar running from his right ear to the corner of his mouth, though even that looked pale in the fading light. Other than the scar, he was actually quite good-looking, with high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and blonde hair as fair as his skin tumbling down into his eyes, which were the most unusual part of his appearance, for they were the color of ebony; perhaps a shade lighter than his pupils, but the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen nonetheless. She felt like screaming in frustration; she _knew _him, she did.

So why couldn't she remember him?

"Oh, come now, Alison," he said, his pale lips curling into a smile. "Surely you can recognize your own family? After all, we are ancestors."

Alison felt a sudden blow to her stomach, and she stared at him with wide eyes, wondering what he was talking about. Ancestors? What the hell was he—

"What do you mean?" Gandalf demanded, looking back and forth between him and Alison in confusion. "What are you saying?"

The man opened his mouth to respond, and before the words even came out of his mouth, it hit her like a lightning bolt, and a sense of dread and wonder shot through her with the force of a thousand volts. Oh, God, how—?

He smiled, the scar on his face rippling and revealing teeth that seemed to flash in the shadows of the night, his obsidian eyes glittering with an amused, almost eager sort of gleam as he answered.

"I am Johnathan Ashburne."

* * *

**WHOA.**

**BACK UP.**

**WHAT JUST HAPPENED. JOHNATHAN ASHBURNE?! Well, I did say there were some surprises coming up...;) And trust me, there are a lot more coming soon too, so just hold steady readers!**

**So, I kind of realized that all of what's been going on in the last several chapters was all pretty dramatic, so what better way to alleviate the tension than with a splash war? And I know everyone probably wants to throw a rock at my window now or something, because just after Alison and Fili kiss I make them not be together! Sorry bout that guys, but you know, Fili does have a point... Mwahahaha and now Johnathan Ashburne has joined the story! Oh, just wait until later lovelies, just you wait... **

**Anyway, thank you for reading another chapter! Y'all are the best readers ever, and your reviews are splendid! Please keep them coming:) **

**Thanks again, lovelies. Until next chapter...**


	19. 19: Across the Wilderness

**Hello, hello, and welcome back! I feel like it's been forever since I last posted, but it's only been a week...**

**But Chapter 19 is here, and I'm happy to say that this is the last "filler" chapter! DoS, here we come.**

**Anyway, here is Chapter 19! Hope y'all like!**

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Chapter Nineteen: Across the Wilderness

There was a moment of ringing silence, in which only the pattering rain could be heard on the leaves around them, continuing on unawares to the staggering situation the Company sheltering in the sparse woodlands had suddenly been thrust in to.

Alison could only stare, gaping, as the man, the guy claiming to be _her ancestor, _stood casually with his bow, grinning in an indulgent way, as if it was his job to run around telling people he was their supposedly long-dead family relation.

Finally, after several agonizing minutes of shocked silence, in which Alison could still not find her voice, Gandalf blinked, hard, and said, "That is impossible. Johnathan Ashburne is long departed from this world. He returned across the veil a thousand years ago."

The guy—Johnathan—merely grinned even more, seeming utterly relaxed after dropping this enormous bombshell on them. "That is true, Istari. But you know better than I do the mysterious workings of the Valar. After all, if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here, and neither would my little descendant."

He fixed his fathomless eyes on Alison at this, and his eye contact was finally what goaded her into speech.

"You're lying," she said, trying not to reveal how unnerved she was from his proclamation. He raised a pale brow, still eyeing her with those dark eyes. "Hero or not, Johnathan Ashburne was a mortal. He would be dead by now; there's no way you can be him."

"I see you're still new to this world in some ways, little warrior," he said, smirking, and she bristled at his nickname and arrogant tone. "There are forces at work here you do not yet fully understand, that can do things beyond your mundane reasoning. The Valar are the prime example of this." He inclined his head to Gandalf slightly, a shred more respect coming into his look. "Your Wizard companion knows this as well as I."

Gandalf narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Be that as it may, only a Dark power would be able to summon the dead back to life. As Alison so rightly said, Johnathan Ashburne was mortal, and he would be long dead…unless a force of Darkness had brought you back from a side of shadows that is not seen to us in life."

Johnathan continued to smirk, as if this were a highly amusing story he found engaging. "You think me a force of Evil, do you not, Istari? You believe that only a darker power can summon the dead, and that is true. But I was never dead. The Valar put me into a slumber, you see, a sleep that has lasted for generations. When I awoke, they told me that they had kept me alive so I may help the next Ashburne warrior that would need my assistance, and that person has to be Alison." He opened his arms widely in a gesture of bravado. "And here I am, at your humble service, my Lady."

There was a glint in his eyes as he said it, and Alison felt her irritation rise as she realized he seemed to be mocking her. "Why me, though?" she demanded, refusing to be deterred by this mysterious, albeit cocky guy that was barely a few years older than her. He raised his eyebrows questioningly as she went on. "Johnathan was the Second Hero; I'm the Seventh. Did you just skip everyone else in the middle or something?"

He cocked his head slightly, as if he were thinking. "That I do not know," he said eventually, fixing her with his dark gaze again, and she felt another tingle of familiarity she couldn't understand run through her. "Perhaps the Valar deemed the other Heroes' tasks as too unimportant to awaken me. But yours…" his lips curled in a smile again. "You must be doing something of great importance if the Valar called on me to assist you. So, once again, I offer you my service, Alison. As one blood relation to another."

His words stirred something in Alison, and she stayed silent, her throat suddenly going dry as Galadriel's words, which had been stuck in her head for days now, echoed once more in her mind. _"Blood calls to blood." _

For the second time that day, she was shaken to her core, and she looked at the man—_Johnathan_—with wide eyes, suddenly realizing what Galadriel's words meant. _Blood calls to blood…_she had to have meant Johnathan. She had to! And now here he was, standing before her, her own blood ancestor. It was true; what he said had to be true, if Galadriel's words confirmed it. He really _was_ Johnathan Ashburne.

But a nagging suspicion crept into the back of her mind, and she tried to keep her expression neutral as she said, "If you're an Ashburne, what proof do you have? How do we know you're not some random human telling us lies?"

His smile grew wider at this. "You're wary of me," he stated, and Alison resisted the urge to roll her eyes and say _Well no shit, Sherlock. _Johnathan looked thoughtful for a second as he went on. "With good reason, I believe. This must be different for you, despite all of the things you have seen and done so far."

Suddenly a knowing look came to his face and he stepped forward, drawing the sword at his waist with a flash of movement Alison wouldn't have noticed at all unless Gandalf hadn't swept her behind him, Glamdring poised in his hand. The Dwarves behind Alison lurched threateningly at Johnathan as he stopped, holding his sword loosely in his hand and giving them all a disdainful look.

"Honestly, if I wanted to kill any of you, I would've done it by this point," he said, sniffing haughtily. He turned his gaze back to Alison, holding out his sword, and it took her a moment to process what she was seeing.

"Is that…a Hero blade?" she asked, moving out from behind Gandalf, clutching her own sword in her hand still. She could feel Gandalf and the Dwarves' tension behind her, but she ignored it, stepping closer to Johnathan and examining his sword.

"It is," he said as she neared. "This blade is named 'Anddrilri', and it was owned by Sendan Ashburne, one of the First."

Alison studied it, aware of the man before her and the Company at her back, all of their eyes on her as she hesitantly took the blade he offered out to her. The sword was heavier than hers, but still had that light, nice balance to it that didn't make it hard to handle. It was almost a mirror image of the Twin Blades, made of the same fine, silvery iron, curving to a sharp point at the end with the same style hilt of black and inlaid silver. The only differences were that his sword was longer and slightly broader than her own, the razor edges engrained with some sort of black steel that made it look even deadlier than the Twin Blades, and the hilt indeed read 'Anddrilri' instead of Natrem or Maodus.

She turned the blade over gently in her hand, looking at the butt of the hilt and feeling her breath catch in her throat; just like her swords, there was the imprint of the Ashburne crest on it—the same bare-branched ash tree, outlined by the sun behind it.

"This still doesn't prove anything," she said weakly, and she distantly wondered why she was being so stubborn; all of the signs were there, that he was in fact Johnathan Ashburne. But that same nagging feeling persisted, and a part of her still had some reservations about what exactly was going on as Johnathan took back the blade. "You could have stolen it for all I know."

"Is there anything that can be disproved, either?" he countered, sheathing his sword, and she stared at him, stumped by the question, for he was right; there was nothing to prove or disprove right now. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. There was nothing to argue against. She would just have to trust his word on this one, and believe that he was really Johnathan Ashburne. "And as for stealing, I am far from being a thief. Much like you I am guessing, this sword was given to me by Lord Elrond of Rivendell, some centuries ago."

"And 'Anddrilri,'" she said. "What does that mean?"

"It means 'from the fire of stars,'" he replied, touching the hilt lightly at his waist. "Fitting for a warrior, if I do say so myself."

Alison opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, Thorin's voice cut across hers, and the Dwarf king marched to her side, Orcrist still in his hand.

"Enough of this," he said, his eyes hard and his face set into his trademark scowl. Johnathan raised his eyebrows as the Dwarf king stalked over, looking down at him, for he was several inches taller than the Dwarf and Alison, at least six foot.

"I beg your pardon, Master Dwarf?" Johnathan said, with an air of someone speaking to a small child, and Thorin's glare deepened at his condescending tone. Alison winced in pity, knowing that Johnathan had no idea who he was speaking to and just waiting for Thorin to get all high and mighty with him. But to her surprise, it never came, though Thorin did speak more harshly as he answered Johnathan.

"I don't know what is compelling you to play this charade, nor do I particularly care at this moment," Thorin said, his eyes boring into Johnathan's. "Ashburne or not, what I want to know is what you are doing in these parts, and how of all the land around us you seemed to know exactly where we'd be and sought us out. Do not think of us as daft, thick-headed fools, son of Man. I want to know what your purpose is in these lands, and how you came to be by us."

Johnathan's expression grew increasingly amused as Thorin went on, and when the Dwarf king finished his little tirade he chuckled humorlessly. "I have not come by many Dwarves during my travels here," he said. "But I never knew just how stubborn and suspicious your folk were until now."

"Spare me your comments," Thorin snapped. "Just answer the question."

Alison saw Johnathan's smirk widen, and the man lifted one of his broad shoulders in a shrug. "Fate? Coincidence? Take your pick. I am merely here as a guardian, as well; a protector of the protector, if you wish." His dark eyes slid to Gandalf as he said this, and Alison looked back and forth between the two in confusion, wondering what that look was about; Gandalf remained expressionless, but she saw the Wizard's eyes narrow infinitesimally at Johnathan's words, his frown deepening.

The clearing fell into a tense silence once more, and Alison vaguely noticed that the rain was beginning to let up as she looked around in the near-darkness, seeing the Company trading anxious and suspicious looks with each other. This did not go unnoticed by Johnathan, either, as he said, "You still do not trust my words. I cannot blame you; I would feel the same way if I were in your position. But it is the truth. If you wish to think things through with one another, then do so. I'll wait here."

He went back to the boulder he had been perched on earlier and lounged against it, flicking his pale hair out of his face and extracting a small knife from his belt, which he then used to pick dirt out from underneath his fingernails as the Company stared at him warily.

He looked up from underneath his dripping bangs as the Company made no signs of moving yet, and he waved his knife at them in a shooing motion. "Go on. Have your little council discussion. I'll be in this exact spot when you return. Promise."

Alison's mind was reeling so much her head was beginning to throb, but she managed to say, "He's right. Come on, we need to talk about this…whatever this is."

And with a last look at Johnathan's smirking face, she turned and made her way back into the shelter of the trees, hearing the heavy sounds of the Dwarves' footfalls following after her. She walked until she thought they were a safe distance away from being overheard and stopped, waiting for the rest of the Company to join her as her thoughts tumbled and swirled out of control.

She hadn't been this disoriented or staggered since her arrival in Middle-earth and learning that she was meant to join the quest to Erebor, and it was not a pleasant feeling at all. As much as she didn't want to believe it, she had a bad feeling that Johnathan was telling the truth; Galadriel's words and his sword were two very big indicators that this wasn't a lie, and after all she had done in Middle-earth—being summoned by the Valar, joining a Company of Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard, almost getting eaten by trolls, being hunted by a pack of Orcs, meeting Elves, fighting goblins, flying on Eagles—and knowing all that she was going to do in the future, his story didn't seem all that implausible, which just made her head hurt even worse.

When all the Company had reached where she was standing, Thorin stormed in after them, his expression harder than the mountain range looming in front of them. "What in Durin's name is going on?" he demanded, his icy eyes looking from Alison to Gandalf. "Do you actually believe what this Man is saying?"

"It is not entirely unfathomable," Gandalf said uncertainly, and Alison noticed that the Wizard had sheathed his sword, which she took as a good sign. "The Valar's plans are shrouded from the eyes of those of us in this world, and who knows what their intentions really are?" The Wizard sighed, shaking his head wearily. "I believe that Johnathan Ashburne is who he says he is; as for the manner of how he got here, and his true purpose of his reveal to us, I cannot say."

"It seems like a load of rubbish to me," Dwalin growled. "We already have one Ashburne warrior, why would we need a second one?"

"Does this mean our quest is too dangerous for just one Hero?" Ori asked worriedly, and Alison felt a flicker of irritation and worry as a new thought occurred to her.

Why _did _they need a second Hero? Was she not good enough? Did the Valar not trust her to save the quest, or the line of Durin? Did they think she was going to fail—or worse, die—which is why they called upon Johnathan to help them? And why was he merely slumbering in Middle-earth in the first place? Why not send him back to the mortal world after his quest was over?

The thoughts kept coming, faster and faster, making her feel panicked and queasy, and she couldn't speak, her throat squeezing painfully as the panic threatened to overtake her again.

"Of course not," Fili said. "The Valar trust in Alison to help us, and she will. I don't see a reason for another Ashburne to join the quest. I think he's just a normal Man, deluded into believing that he's a long-lost warrior meant to help us."

"That doesn't explain how he knew where to find us," Balin said. "Or how he knew Alison on sight or his sword. I think he's telling the truth."

"But he didn't recognize Alison on sight," Kili pointed out. "He only knew it was her after he heard Thorin say her name. I agree with Fili; he's probably just some crazy old coot lost in the mountains and he decided to have some fun with the first people he stumbled upon, which unfortunately, is us."

"No," Alison piped up, trying not to let her voice sound so squeaky from panic, and all eyes turned to her, seeming to have forgotten she was standing with them. "I think Johnathan is really an Ashburne. As for how he found us, or if what he says about him slumbering is true, I don't know. But he's an Ashburne. I know he is."

She couldn't say what made her conviction so strong that it was him; what Galadriel had said, surely, but there was something else, an internal feeling in her gut, almost, that told her it was true, that he was her ancestor. Then she wondered if that made him like her great-great-great-great grandfather or something, which was so creepy to think about she put it out of her mind instantly.

"How can you be so sure?" Thorin asked her, his eyes boring into hers; a few months ago, she would've quailed under the ferocity of his gaze, but now she faced him straight-forward, refusing to be daunted; he may be the king, but she _knew _that she was right. That man was Johnathan Ashburne.

She opened her mouth, ready to argue that she just _was, _but she knew Thorin was never going to take her seriously if she just made up a lame excuse. This was far too serious for that, and it suddenly hit her why Thorin was being so distrustful and harsh; he was afraid.

She had always known he had some reservations about allowing her to join the Company, and that he feared what her presence meant for them and their quest. But now he seemed to be thinking along the lines of Ori, though he would never say it aloud; allowing a second warrior to join the quest meant that this was far more dangerous than he would have imagined, and he was frightened at what the end would be for all of them if the Valar kept trying to interfere. He was afraid, and Alison knew that she had to be honest with him. She had to tell him what Galadriel had said; not all of it, but just enough to convince him that Johnathan had to come with them, for all their sakes, no matter if he liked it or not.

She took a deep breath, meeting the Dwarf king's gaze head-on. "I'm sure…because it was foretold to me, by the Lady Galadriel."

Thorin blinked, taken aback by her proclamation, while the Company looked on with varying degrees of wonder and bafflement. Gandalf had looked to her sharply at the mention of Galadriel, and it was to him and Thorin she directed her next words, trying not to feel like she was in a spotlight.

"It happened in Rivendell," she said, pulling at the cuffs of her jacket nervously. "She…she came to me, when I was alone, and she said…'Blood calls to blood.' I didn't know what she meant at the time, but now…I think she was talking about Johnathan. He came here because of me, because we're…blood relations or something, and he was meant to find me. That's why I know how he found us, and why."

"And you kept this to yourself?" Thorin said sharply, but then shook his head as she opened her mouth, holding up a hand. "Never mind; it doesn't matter right now. Are you sure this is what she meant? Did she say anything else?"

"I…no," she said, swallowing back her former words. She didn't want to share anything else the she-Elf had told her, feeling like it was her burden, and hers alone, though Thorin's eyes narrowed, as if he knew what she had been about to say. "She told me nothing else of importance. But I know now this is what she meant. Who else in Middle-earth could have the same blood as me if not Johnathan? It makes sense."

"Alison is right," Gandalf said, fixing his piercing gaze on her shrewdly, as if he too suspected she was keeping some of Galadriel's words to herself. "He is Johnathan Ashburne, the Second Hero. There is no other explanation, though this problem still troubles me greatly."

"So what do we do?" Bofur asked. "He says he's meant to help Alison, but if she's meant to help us…"

He trailed off, and the Company all looked at each other anxiously, thinking the same thing Alison was.

"Then he's supposed to come on the quest with us," she finished, but the words were barely out of her mouth before Thorin was already shaking his head.

"No," he said. "I will not allow it. There is something about that Man I do not trust, and I am not bringing him on a quest with us, a quest that is sacred to our people. I have already allowed you to come, Alison, but not him. Something tells me it is not right, and I will not jeopardize this quest for the sake of some ancestor of yours claiming he is working under the Valar with no proof."

"That is _so _hypocritical," Alison shot back, not believing what she was hearing. Thorin raised his eyebrows as she continued. "You let me join the quest without a shred of proof I was who I said I was, and now you're using that argument to not let Johnathan join us?"

"I did have proof when you joined us," Thorin replied stonily. "Even though you chose your own path, fate reasserted itself until you had joined us once more. That was all the proof I needed to know that you had some role to play in this."

"But isn't that what Johnathan is doing, too?" Alison didn't know why she was arguing so forcefully about this, but there was…something inside of her, telling her that this had to be done. Johnathan _had _to come on the quest with them. She believed it. "I mean, of all the land in this world, he ends up exactly where we are. That's pretty coincidental, don't you think? Something almost like fate."

Thorin said nothing, only glowered, and Alison knew she had him cornered. "He comes with us," she said. "As weird as this is, he's my family, Thorin. He's like me, and the Valar sent him to find me for a reason. I'm not going to ignore that."

"Alison—"

"Thorin, why are you so against this—"

"I agree with Alison," Dwalin interrupted, and Thorin and Alison turned to face him, along with the rest of the Company.

"Thank you, Dwalin," she said in exasperation. "Good to know someone sees any sense around here—"

"To an extent," the burly Dwarf continued, cutting her off, and she stopped abruptly, staring at him in confusion. "If this Johnathan fellow thinks he is to come with us, then we'll let him. But he doesn't know about the quest, and I see no reason to tell him. And we need someone to lead us over these mountains, someone who is knowledgeable about these lands and can lead us to supplies. Er, no offense, Mr. Gandalf," he said, glancing at the Wizard, but Gandalf merely waved his hand, urging him on. "But once we are over the mountains…"

He looked pointedly around at them all, and Alison knew what he was implying with a spark of anger. "You mean we'll give him the slip," Balin said, sounding thoroughly impressed and shocked, as if he were surprised that Dwalin of all people should come up with that plan. Dwalin nodded as the others grumbled in agreement.

"I like it," Thorin said, and Alison turned on him, suddenly outraged.

"Are you serious?" she said. "Thorin, this is low. We can't just stab him in the back if he's trying to help us—"

"I don't want to do it anymore than you do, Alison," Thorin said, meeting her gaze calmly. "But it must be done if we are to keep our quest a secret. You know now what's at stake. We can't afford to trust anyone we know nothing about, and unfortunately, Johnathan falls into that category."

Alison shook her head, completely incredulous by the notion of the Dwarves even _thinking _of such a low blow. But the rational part of her, the part that still held some doubt about Johnathan's purpose, agreed with him; this quest was theirs, and theirs alone. There was no mention of Johnathan joining their quest before, and she knew for sure he wasn't in the book. So why was he there?

When she didn't say anything, Thorin looked around at the Dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf seriously. "I agree to Dwalin's plan. We'll have to figure out the rest of it once we are out of the mountains, for I suspect he's getting suspicious of how long we've been gone now. Are we all in agreement?"

The Company all nodded, even Bilbo and Gandalf, though grudgingly, as if they didn't entirely approve of the plan, either. Thorin met Alison's eyes again. "What about you, Alison?" he said. "Will you agree to not tell him anything, and will you agree to leave him behind when the time calls for it?"

Alison nodded stiffly, feeling her gut clench at the prospect. She felt like she was suddenly being stretched between the Company and Johnathan; she would remain with the Company when the time came, but now knowing that Johnathan, her ancestor, was meant to help her, she felt guilty for what she would have to do. But it had to be done; for the sake of the quest, it had to be done.

"Good," Thorin said, though he still eyed her carefully. "Then let's get back."

He led the way back through the trees, and night had truly fallen by this point, making it hard to see through the woods, though the rain had finally stopped, leaving only wet foliage behind as they trekked back to the clearing.

When they re-entered the clearing, it was to find Johnathan lounging in the exact place they had left him, trying to balance his knife on his palm and looking utterly bored.

"There you are," he drawled, not looking up from his task as they stepped out of the tree-line, the knife tip balanced precariously on his hand. "I was beginning to wonder if you had left without me. I'm glad you didn't; my poor little heart probably would've broken."

Hearing how cold and arrogant his voice was again made Alison start to wonder why she had stood up for him, but there was no time to dwell on it as he stood up from the boulder, twirling his knife with a flourish and replacing it back into his belt. "So, what all did you decide?"

"We have agreed to let you come with us," Thorin said, meeting Johnathan's gaze. "As long as you help us cross these lands and lead us somewhere we can find provisions."

Johnathan nodded. "I can do that," he said, his dark eyes nearly being swallowed by the gloom around them. "Though I think your Wizard companion should be able to help, as well."

Thorin said nothing to this last part, only nodded. "Very well," he said stiffly, and even though they had a plan now, Alison knew the Dwarf king didn't like the Second Hero or the role he would play one bit. Thorin made to move away, but Johnathan's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You know, you still haven't told me what it is you are doing." Thorin turned to face Johnathan slowly, his face carefully blank as he said, "Oh?"

Johnathan scrutinized him with unreadable eyes. "Obviously you're the leader of this merry little band of Dwarves, yet you still haven't said what it is you're doing traveling with my descendant, a Hobbit, and a Wizard. This must be something of great importance for such a strange company to embark on."

"Indeed," Thorin replied flatly. Johnathan waited for the Dwarf king to continue, but when it was obvious that he wasn't going to talk, he only sighed dramatically.

"All right then," he said. "I see I'll be kept in the dark on this one. But don't expect me to play oblivious forever…uh…what's your name?" he said, looking at Thorin questioningly, and Alison remembered that Johnathan had not yet met the Dwarves.

"Thorin," Thorin said cautiously, obviously waiting for some spark of recognition from the man, but Johnathan only nodded, seeming to not know Thorin's name, much to their relief. Thorin quickly went through the rest of the Company, rattling off their names at such a speed that Johnathan looked quite lost once he had finished.

"Well, excellent." Johnathan said after the rushed introduction, regaining his wits, and he clapped his hands together, the sharp sound snapping in the heavy, quiet air around them. "Now that we can all pretend to be friends, let's get a fire started and find some food, then we'll sleep for the night and begin our climb first thing in the morning."

He brushed past Thorin, who looked highly affronted that Johnathan had given orders when he was the leader, but the Dwarf king only set his jaw and glowered after him, shooting a pointed glare at Alison as if saying _Your ancestor, your problem. Deal with it._

Sighing, she walked after Johnathan, wondering why of all the Heroes of her line, the Valar had to stick her with the cocky, puffed up one that walked around like he owned the place and had more mystery to him than she liked. As she passed the Company, she could hear Thorin relaying Johnathan's orders in a grudging tone, as if he were trying to swallow a mouse, and she felt a faint flicker of amusement as she continued on to Johnathan.

She came up behind him as he dug around for some dry twigs and joined him in his search, clearing her throat as she did so.

"Ah, the little warrior," he said, examining a twig before dropping it back to the damp ground again and sparing her a cursory glance. "You know, I was thinking earlier that we should just call each other cousins. Seeing as you're technically my great-great—"

"Yeah, cousins sounds fine," she said hastily, not wanting to be reminded of that weirdness again, and he chuckled under his breath as he picked up another twig and held onto it for the fire.

A heavy silence settled between them, and Alison began to feel increasingly pressured and awkward as it carried on. But what was she supposed to say? _Oh, hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but we're ancestors a thousand years apart from each other stuck in a world that is not our own, so what's up? How was your centuries-long slumber by the way? Any cool dreams? _Because that would lead to a _great_ conversation.

"Your Dwarf friend, Thorin," he said, breaking the silence, and Alison looked over to him as she picked up a usable stick. He poked at the ground, his damp fair hair falling into his face, and she watched the scar on his right cheek ripple with the movement of his mouth in interest. "He doesn't like me much."

He looked over at her, his shadowy eyes blending perfectly into the night, and she tore her own eyes away from his scar, not wanting to be rude. "To be honest, he doesn't really like anybody he first meets," she said awkwardly, trying not to be intimidated by him, but it was hard. It was obvious he was a highly skilled warrior, and he had been in Middle-earth far longer than she had; compared to him, she was beginning to feel like a blundering fool.

Johnathan smirked dryly. "Obviously," he agreed. There was a slight pause, then he said, "And what about you, Alison? Do you share the same attitude as Thorin when it comes to me?"

Alison continued her search for twigs, choosing not to answer straight away. She could sense him staring at her expectantly, and she sighed, suddenly feeling mentally drained and exhausted from all that had happened that day.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, not meeting his eyes. "This is just all…too much for me right now. I have no idea what to think anymore, about you, about this situation…just everything, really."

She looked at him then to see his reaction, but he only looked thoughtful, nodding his head slowly as he twirled a twig absent-mindedly in his long, pale fingers. "Understandable," he said. "I felt the same way you are right now when I first landed in Middle-earth. Though I must say," he looked to her with a slight grin. "You seem to handle strange things a lot better than I could."

She grinned slightly back, though she doubted that very much; she had spent her first day in Middle-earth running away from Gandalf and crying about how she wasn't a warrior and wanted to go home. That didn't seem like she could handle things very well.

His words and her thoughts about her arrival struck a memory within her, though, and she looked back to Johnathan curiously. "You were the Hero that fought in the War of the Last Alliance, right?" she asked. "You were the one that fought against the forces of Sauron, because of those rings he made. That's why you were called to Middle-earth."

"Brushing up on a little history, I see?" he replied casually, but Alison saw a shadow pass over his face, and his scar stood out even whiter against his skin as his jaw clenched. Wondering if she had crossed some sort of line, she could only stare as he stood up, holding his bundle of dry sticks for the fire and regaining his composure a bit before he answered her.

"Yes, I was the one who was called upon for the War," he said. "I fought alongside the Elves and Men in battle against the Dark Lord over a thousand years ago." He looked haunted as he said it, his dark eyes cast into deep shadow and a muscle twitching in his jaw, making his scar jump out vividly in the dark. "That's how I got this," he pointed to the scar, and Alison stared at it in fascination despite herself. "From a particularly nasty Orc, I might add. If the King of Gondor's son, Isildur, had not been there…"

Another shadow passed over his face, and Alison instantly felt guilty; it was obvious this topic still pained him to talk about, and she felt awful for bringing it up now. "I'm sorry," she started. "I shouldn't have—"

He waved his hand dismissively, cutting her off. "Don't worry," he said. "I don't care anymore. It's all in the past, and there's no changing it."

She nodded, biting her lip and straightening up as well; she could hear the Dwarves behind her issuing out watches and squabbling over who gets the driest patches of ground to sleep on, and she inwardly sighed, feeling like a babysitter as she heard Dwalin and Dori get into it. She knew the lack of supplies and the increasingly tough terrain were getting to them, and she hoped they could find provisions soon before they all started strangling each other.

"We should get back," she said, jerking her head towards the Dwarves, and he nodded. She began to make her way over to the arguing Company when Johnathan's words held her back.

"You seem like an interesting girl, Alison Ashburne," he said, and she looked at him, expecting to see another mocking gleam in his eye, but to her surprise she couldn't find it. His face looked more genuine than she would've thought capable as he went on. "I'm curious to see what your quest will do to you when it ends."

And with that, his smirk was back in place, and he moved past her back to the campsite with long, languid strides.

Alison stood alone for a few moments, wondering what he could've meant. The way he had said it…it sounded so ominous, as if he thought something bad was going to happen to her. But she shook her head, trying to squash that thought down. Of course he wasn't being all cryptic; he was just expressing curiosity.

But as Alison made after him towards the Company, she couldn't deny the warning feeling building in her chest, and she wondered if inviting him along would cost her after all.

* * *

"You know, this is a pretty strange thing for a Dwarf to say," Kili said as he hugged the rock wall beside him, trying to walk on the ledge they were currently on without falling off. "But I'm really sick of mountains at the moment."

"Technically it's not a _mountain_, it's a _canyon," _Alison said from behind him, making her voice sarcastic and drawling to mimic Johnathan's, and Kili snickered as they continued along the canyon ledge.

It was their third day in the last of the Misty Mountains, and if Alison had to guess, she figured they would be out of the bordering mountain range by tomorrow, and then they would be making their way to Mirkwood. Johnathan had been leading them steadily over the mountains in that time, and if Alison had thought Thorin was a complicated person to handle, it was nothing compared to Johnathan.

The guy was completely maddening; where Thorin would just opt to walk in silence and brood most of the time, Johnathan never shut up. And with his snide comments and arrogant attitude, Alison was seriously considering just pushing him off the ledge and letting Gandalf lead the rest of the way. It was completely infuriating, and it angered her even more because she knew that this was her fault; she was the one who had pushed for Johnathan to come, and she wondered, not for the first time, what had made her choose that stupid decision as Johnathan's drawling voice came floating back to her from his position at the head of the Company, where he seemed to be talking about the best way to catch fish in the mountain streams to Dwalin, who looked about ready to punch the man's lights out even though he was a good half-foot shorter than the Ashburne.

Though Alison's moral instincts told her that severing ties with Johnathan was wrong, that she shouldn't do it, a part of her had to admit that she would not be sorry to see him gone. She had never had a tolerance for arrogant people, and Johnathan was the epitome for everything pretentious. And with the swathing layers of mystery around him, Alison was beginning to feel uneasy, as well; something about this didn't add up, though she didn't know what, and that same nagging feeling in her gut had started up again as he led them on.

But she had to admit, he made a good guide. Whereas Thorin had estimated it would take them a week to cross the last of the mountain range, Johnathan had cut that time down in half by leading them through the mountains, instead of over them, which is how they came to be walking in a canyon rather than struggling up the steep slopes themselves. And another perk was that he knew exactly where to find food and water and shelter. Though it was nothing near to the now-luxuries of what they had before, they still had a sheltered place to sleep every night and some food and water to keep them going the next day, which was more than they could've hoped for.

As the day wore on, the wind throughout the canyon began to pick up considerably, and it brought with it the crisp smell of autumn and a sharp chill that hinted summer was very nearly over, which did not sit with Alison well at all. Texas was always hot and humid no matter what, and the cold was something she hated even more than the rain.

But now that autumn was for sure on the horizon, her gut began to twist as they trekked on through the canyon, her mind straying to thoughts of the Durin's Day deadline, and all they would have to go through until they reached the Lonely Mountain. And then, when they made it to Erebor, there was still the problem of Smaug and the Battle of Five Armies and everything, which just made her feel worse. So far, she hadn't come up with anything yet that could help them avoid the brunt of those challenges, and she was beginning to think that maybe there was just no way around them, and they would have to take their chances and hope they came out alive.

Which was _real _reassuring.

By the time dusk was settling, thick clouds had covered the twilight sky, but they were fluffy and light, nothing like rain clouds, which Alison took some comfort in. She vaguely noticed that she had begun to tear at her nail-beds again throughout the day, and now her fingers were raw and sore from the constant picking, a bad habit she had found herself doing every time she was nervous or stressed.

They climbed out of the canyon just as the sun sank behind the clouds, and they made their way up a small slope until they reached a little shelf tucked into the side of it. Behind them was the canyon, and to their sides was the bare rock of the slope, though to their left was more of a treacherous stretch of stone spotted with boulders that they would have to go through tomorrow. On the other side of the small canyon they had just crossed was the first ridge-line they had climbed over when they had entered, blocking the view of the Carrock and the larger Misty Mountains behind it from where they were standing. It was a pretty bleak place, but hopefully they would be out of it by tomorrow, for Alison was beyond done with mountains and climbing by this point.

"We'll camp here," Thorin said, once everyone had joined him on the ledge, and they nodded wearily, exhausted from their arduous trek that day.

"I'll go get some food," Johnathan said. "I saw some tracks on the way up here, though it's hard to say what it was without the light. You two," he pointed at Óin and Glóin, who looked disgruntled as the man spoke to them. "Get a fire going for the food. I'll be back within the hour."

Thorin looked up to the sky as Johnathan ordered the two Dwarves, and he looked like he was uttering a silent prayer to his forefathers to lend him the strength to not murder Johnathan on the spot as the warrior gave orders for the rest of the Company to get some rest and whatnot, which Alison found highly amusing.

A few minutes later Johnathan had taken his bow and disappeared down the slope, his movements as lithe and quiet as a jungle cat. Alison felt a flicker of envy as she watched him go, wondering how he could move so quickly and gracefully, like a true warrior. She had been comparing herself to Johnathan a lot lately, and even though she knew she was being self-deprecating, she was still jealous of just how…confident and _heroic _he was. It was like everything she wasn't, he was, and though it was stupid and petty, she disliked him for it, and she couldn't help wondering if the Valar had seen she was weak and useless and instead called on Johnathan, which was why he was here.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she turned away from the spot where she had watched Johnathan disappear and walked back to the others, seeing Óin and Glóin already starting a fire with some spare twigs they had scrounged up in the canyon and a couple flint stones.

When the fire was ablaze, the Company all sat around it in silence, warming their hands from the flames as the night grew steadily cooler around them. After a few minutes though, Dwalin spoke up from his place on the ground, looking around at them all.

"All right, I've had enough," he said. "That mouthy whelp of a warrior is getting on my last nerve. First thing we do once we get out of the mountains is knock him out, tie him to a tree, and make a run for it. I'll even be the one to do the honors if no one else wants to."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Thorin said, though he looked faintly amused. "But I agree; there is something I do not trust about this man, and this quest is ours alone. We need to sever all ties with him and continue on. We have entered August, and Durin's Day is now not that much farther away. We need to keep moving."

He looked at Alison as he said this, as if expecting her to start arguing again, but she stayed silent, only nodding. By this point, as she thought about what lay ahead, she found herself not really caring about the whole Johnathan-situation anymore. All she wanted to do was focus on her own goals, and those goals consisted of her trying to find a way that would keep all of them alive until the end of their journey. Whether Johnathan came with them or not, she would find a way to save them all, even if the Valar didn't trust in her abilities anymore; she would save them, and she would prove herself once more.

She tuned out of the rest of the Company's hushed conversation, tracing a finger through the rocky sediment on the ground as she let her thoughts wander. She wondered when everything had become so confusing for her. After their escape from the Orcs on the cliff-side, she had felt surer of herself, and she had found a new confidence within her that had given her the courage she needed to believe that she _could _change the outcome of the story, that she could help them complete this quest with no tragic ending. But Johnathan's arrival had thrown all of that out the window, and now she was back to square one: confused, uncertain, doubtful, and lost in this great world that she didn't even come from. She felt like the Valar were playing some sort of cosmic joke on her, laughing at her for ever thinking she would be the one to aid the Company in victory. She was nothing more than a mortal girl, pretending to be a warrior until the true Hero would awaken.

She was pulled out of her self-wallowing when she heard crunching footsteps from below the ledge they were seated on, and the Company all shot to their feet instantly, drawing their weapons as someone stomped out the fire with their boot, plunging them into darkness as the sound of scattering rocks came closer.

A few seconds later, Johnathan hurtled out of the shadows and clattered to a stop on the ledge, his bow in one hand and Anddrilri in the other, his dark eyes wide and his chest heaving from the exertion of running uphill.

"We need to move," he said, and all traces of arrogance or sarcasm were gone from his voice; his tone was sharp and commanding and serious, and his face was graver than she had seen it yet. "Now, come on!"

"What are you talking about?" Thorin said suspiciously, but as Alison watched, Orcrist, unsheathed and in his hand, was starting to glow faintly blue, as were Glamdring and Bilbo's sword.

"Thorin!" Alison said, pointing to his sword with Natrem's tip, and the Dwarf king looked down, his eyes widening slightly.

He cursed in Khuzdûl as Johnathan said, "There's an Orc pack scouting on the ridge across from us, astride Wargs. And they don't look very happy."

Thorin nodded curtly, just as a Warg howl tore through the night, echoing around the mountain canyon and sending a shiver of fear down Alison's spine as she gripped her swords, remembering the last time she had faced down the Orcs just a few weeks ago.

"Move!" Thorin commanded, and they did, sprinting across the slope towards the boulders on their left as more Wargs joined in with the first, creating a cacophony of snarls and howls. They had caught the scent.

* * *

_Bilbo Baggins, what have you gotten yourself into? _Bilbo thought to himself as he crouched behind a particularly large boulder, shivering slightly from the chilly wind and the thrills of fear running through him.

Behind the cloud cover, the moon shone full and bright, providing some light for Bilbo to see by as his eyes scanned the canyon and the ridge across from them warily, searching for any signs of the Orcs pursuing them. He had no doubt that it was Azog, who had obviously followed them since their escape from the Misty Mountains and now sought revenge with a steely determination, and Bilbo knew that the Pale Orc would not stop hunting them until they were all dead; which was why, much to his disliking, he had been voted to scout for any signs of the hunting party.

Of course, it had been Johnathan Ashburne's idea that Bilbo should go, and to his intense shock and displeasure, Gandalf had agreed with the human warrior, and so Bilbo had gone to scout. He was quite irritated that Gandalf had listened to Johnathan; the Man had been with them for not more than a week, and he already acted like he was the new leader of the Company. He could understand why the Dwarves wanted him gone so badly; he was arrogant and too mysterious, and there was something about him Bilbo could not bring himself to trust, which surprised him greatly. Usually he always tried to see the best in people, but with Johnathan Ashburne…there was no best, to put it bluntly. And that bothered him greatly.

Suddenly, on the ridge before him, Bilbo saw a powerful Warg lunge into view, its muscles rippling under its snow-white pelt, and Bilbo could imagine the glowing, feral eyes and rancid breath even from where he was crouched, and he shivered even more as he instantly recognized the figure atop the Warg.

Azog was crouched low over his steed, his pale skin glowing silver in the moonlight and bringing to light his deep scars, his mace-arm glinting wickedly as the Orc bent low, as if searching for a track. As Bilbo watched, more Orcs joined Azog on top of the ridge, astride their own Wargs, and Bilbo crouched down even lower as one of the beasts turned its head toward him, sniffing.

Subconsciously, Bilbo's hand strayed to his waistcoat pocket, where he could feel the light weight of the ring pressing into his side as he slunk down even further. He thought about taking it out and putting it on, to use its incredible powers to make himself invisible so he could slip away, unseen, but suddenly the Orc pack snarled excitedly and took off down the ridge, away from Bilbo.

He took his hand from his pocket, feeling vaguely disappointed that he didn't get to use his ring, the magical trinket he had won from the creature Gollum deep in the heart of the Misty Mountains all those days ago. It had proved quite useful in the past, and it was an extraordinary feeling, to be invisible to the world and know that he could do almost anything if the ring was on. How extraordinary…

Bilbo peeped his head back over the boulder, checking to make sure all of the Orcs were gone before going back to the others. As he poked his head up, he noticed with relief that the Orcs had gone, though his limbs suddenly felt seized as he saw something immensely worse before him.

Across the ridge, where the Orcs had just disappeared down, there was another creature, and Bilbo knew he had never seen such a beast in all his life. It was an enormous bear-like monstrosity, with bristled black fur and huge paws the size of dinner platters that stomped the ground as it lumbered around, sniffing the spot where the Orcs had just been. The bear lifted its muzzle into the air and stared off to where the Orcs had gone, and its lips curled back in a growl, a deep-throated sound that Bilbo could hear from across the small canyon as he saw its finger-length fangs gleam bone-white.

Not daring to breathe, Bilbo slowly crept down from his spot behind the boulder as quietly as he could, not even wanting to risk pausing to take the ring out of his pocket but making sure the giant creature wouldn't see him all the same.

Once he was in the clear, he stopped and looked back, seeing the bear lumber along the ridge-line, presumably looking for the Orcs, and Bilbo did not wait around any longer. He turned and sprinted back down to the clearing the Company was sheltered in, below the boulders on one of the secluded mountain-paths Johnathan had found.

The Company looked up anxiously as Bilbo tumbled into the clearing, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts from the exertion and the fear pulsing through him.

"How close is the pack?" Thorin demanded, stepping close to Bilbo as the Hobbit attempted to catch his breath.

Bilbo shook his head, feeling a trickle of sweat run down the back of his neck. "Too close. A couple leagues, no more." He sucked in a breath, urging his heart to stop pounding so hard. "But that's not the worst of it."

"Have the Orcs picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked, gripping the handle of one of his battle-axes tightly.

Bilbo shook his head quickly. "Not yet, but they will. We have another problem."

"Did they see you?" Gandalf broke in, and Bilbo looked to him, still trying to recover his breath. Gandalf misinterpreted Bilbo's silence and the Wizard's eyes widened. "They saw you."

"No, that's not it—"

"Oh, good," Gandalf said in relief. He turned to the Company at large. "See, what did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material."

The Dwarves all started grumbling in agreement, but Bilbo saw Johnathan, standing near the back of the group, stare at him intently at the Wizard's words, his dark eyes sparking with interest. Choosing to ignore this, but feeling uneasy now, Bilbo spoke over the Dwarves, trying to make them understand what was going on.

"Will you just listen?" he said over the clamor, and the Dwarves stopped talking immediately at his sharp tone, staring at him in surprise; Bilbo rarely ever raised his voice, but their lack of listening skills was making his temper short. "I'm trying to tell you there is something else out there!"

The Dwarves froze, and Bilbo looked to Gandalf, seeing the Wizard's face pinch into a grave expression. "What form did it take?" Gandalf asked seriously. "Like a bear?"

Bilbo stared at the Wizard, wondering how he could possibly know that. "Ye—yes. But bigger, much bigger."

All the Dwarves, Alison, and Johnathan turned to look at Gandalf as well. "You knew about this beast?" Bofur asked, but Gandalf didn't reply. Bilbo watched as Gandalf and Johnathan shared a significant look, but before Bilbo could ask about it, Bofur said, "I think we should double-back."

"We'll be run down by a pack of Orcs," Thorin pointed out, his face stony in the nighttime gloom.

"There is a house," Gandalf said. "It's not far from here, where we might take refuge."

"Whose house?" Thorin asked, but Bilbo wondered if this wasn't the first time the Dwarf king had asked this question. "Are they friend or foe?"

"Neither," Gandalf said, meeting Johnathan's gaze again. "He will help us…or he will kill us."

Johnathan nodded his head slightly, his mouth pursed, but Bilbo figured he was the only one seeing this strange exchange since no one else voiced their concerns about it.

"What choice do we have?" Thorin asked the Wizard, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Suddenly an echoing roar sounded close by them, and Bilbo knew that that was no Warg or Orc cry; that was the sound of something much, much larger and dangerous.

As the roar faded away and the Company stood, paralyzed, Gandalf swept his gaze over all of them and spoke into the ominous silence, one word that sent a chill down Bilbo's spine: "None."

* * *

***Be prepared for a long A/N***

**Well, as I said above, I'm happy to be moving on from these filler chapters. I have a great many things planned for you all for DoS, and I'm excited to put those plans into action (extra stress on the word 'action'). I'm also curious to see where Alison and Johnathan's relationship goes, because they're pretty wary of each other right now... and poor Alison, thinking the Valar don't want her anymore and feeling that Johnathan is better than her:( Don't worry, Al, things will get better.**

**But man, J-Ash (don't hate on the nickname). Do I have MANY surprises planned for you, you mouthy whelp of a warrior;) But y'all will have to wait until later before all that happens!**

**Anyway, I want to round off this A/N with a shoutout to the amazing and fantastic KeepingThemAtBay! She's been an avid reader/reviewer for a while, and her support means so much! She's recently taken it upon herself to do some fan art for this story by drawing Alison, and it's literally the most amazing thing I have ever seen! If y'all want to check it out (which I highly recommend because it's so good) you can go find it at (keepingthematbay .wordpress.com Seriously, do it. It's beautiful. She's been an incredible support to me for the past few weeks, and this is my way of showing my gratitude for this fantastic person! So check it out! Thanks!**

**But thank you to all of my readers/reviewers/followers as well. Y'all are amazing, so please continue with your reviews and things and just being awesome! **

**Thank you so much, lovelies! Until next chapter...**


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